Hell's Alliance
by T.L. Arens
Summary: G1 AU It's 2190. Alpha Trion attempts to replace Rodimus Prime as Autobot leader. But the Matrix frustrates his machinations by bringing Optimus back from the dead.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: While this story is AU, it's also a part of DSR. But you do not need to read DSR to understand the story (good thing, huh?) Two-tissue warning here and much thanks goes to my friends: Jayd Hunter and Illmatar whose support, encouragement and constant nagging keep me tied to the keyboard ;)

HELL'S ALLIANCE

chapter 1

HIS TRIONNESS

One of the crazy things about being a Prime is that you get an occasional clue as to how stuff works; how the universe exists. Life is not always a one-shot deal; sometimes you're given another decision to make or some way to correct a mistake. Sometimes you're even allowed do-overs.

There's infinite possibilities. The conditions and events that make a person's life are as varied as Earth's weather patterns. Multiply that by several trillion and you'll find your processors fried extra-crispy and burnt at the edges.

Ha! Okay, so I'm getting ambiguous. Can't help it. I don't think I can say something like "Dude, I know parallel realities exist and I think reality rewrites itself when things go horribly, horribly wrong.

Hmm. Actually, I think that works. Yeah. I'll stick with that. Things went horribly, horribly wrong in this reality or dimension or whatever. My head sits stuck in replay mode as I lie here, dying in Op's arms. It occurred to me that there is life beyond the moment. There really is more to the play even after the curtain closes.

I have found that when things go absolutely 'south,' history or the time line or something to that effect, rewrites itself. That's not to say bad things aren't supposed to happen. Cuz they do.

Does that make sense? Let me repeat it: When everything goes completely wrong, events, situations and conditions are rewritten so that there is more right than wrong. People who die at the wrong time or under the wrong circumstances repeat their lives-ever hear of deja vu? It's kinda like that-you live the same life under similar circumstances, but conditions and events are altered just a little.

Okay, enough of that crap.

Let me tell you of something that went horribly, horribly wrong-and how it started with a bizarre event followed by an unrecoverable catastrophe.

We'll start with Uncle Trion. Wait, let me back up. He's not my uncle. I privately call him stuff like that cuz he is a slice of shrapnel in my side. Don't misunderstand me. I love the busy-body old coot who loves to mind my business, put me in my place and remind me that I am indebted to him at every opportunity. However, he did take care of me when I became sick with hax. I was out of commission for three years and he handled everything. I do mean _everything_. So I owe him chassis and processor.

Trion also made it possible for us to rebuild Metroplex after the Unicronian War. The Defense Administration on Cybertron (established after the war in spite of my objection) didn't think it a good idea to do anything with Earth after Optimus Prime's assassination. And speaking of Optimus, Trion supported me after we lost him.

Those were really crappy years after Op's death. We were attacked by a giant planet eater and then the new Cybertron Defense Administration didn't want to acknowledge me as a Prime. Cybertron's oldest and worst enemies, the Quintessons, returned with a vengeance.

Life can bite after the party favors are taken down. Two days after I took over as Prime, a typhoon of people, events, complaints and problems slammed into me. No sooner did I solve one thing than six more zeroed in like an infestation of metallic mosquitoes.

I would have been happy to give my position to Magnus. But Mags surprised me when he said he actually tried to use the Matrix when Op passed it to him. Mags said the Matrix haunted him for months after that. He was glad when I took it from Galvatron.

Lucky me.

I'm not going to bore you with details. But suffice it to say I've been the sucker-in-charge for a good eighty Earth years. Not a long time according to our standards, but long enough for me to get the hang of things.

Oh yeah, did I mention that Optimus isn't dead? That's the one bizarre incident that started a chain of events that ended everything in a catastrophe.

At the moment, however, the prestigiously popular patriarch of the Autobot population is about to present his person in a pomp and proper package.

I drove from my roost at Central Command to the landing bay at the topmost place in Metroplex. The multitude of Trion-worshipers congregated on every street corner and overhang available to them. I coasted through the swarm of people until I found Magnus, Kup and Op. Magnus greeted me with a hint of enthusiasm. I plastered on a smile and hoped lightning did not strike me dead for lack of sincerity.

Trion's private shuttle, the Acetone Dawn, glided gracefully along the runway and landed with the touch of an expert.

Trion's throng of fans and wannabe lovers cheered. Both Autobots and Humans praised Trion with applause and signs such as 'Welcome Home, Alpha-T" and (heart symbol) Our Autobot Grandfather!"

Upon reading the last one, I about cracked up, thinking of Papa Smurf. But then I realized it wasn't funny at all because if those people knew what _I_ knew of him, they'd be dreading his visit, too. Alpha Trion was about politics, not leadership.

We (Magnus, Kup, Op and me) greeted Alpha Trion as he disembarked from the shuttle. His two oversized chump bodyguards trounced the plank after him. Neither of them liked me much and the feeling's all-around mutual, believe me.

Then out stepped two of Trion's three daughters: Cricket and Arcee. I refrained from grinding my gears. Cricket was okay. She usually disappears for days to who-knows-where. _Arcee_, on the other hand is Trouble Maker Number Two (I'm Number One). She and Ultra Magnus are in a current 'fling'. Well, they think they're serious, but one cycle of break-up/make-up after another is more a fiasco than a courtship. It's great that Mags has someone to love. It's not so great that it happens to be Alpha Trion's youngest daughter. More irritating for me is how Mags and 'Cee are at the fourth swing in the 'make-up/break-up' right now. I wish she'd make up her mind and I wish Magnus would just put his foot down.

Trion waved to the ignorant jubilant crowd. He waved to paparazzi, reporters and three Autobot bystanders. Then per customary procedure, he stepped next to me, arm across my back, I plastered on a shit-eating grin and everyone took our photo.

A small group of 'Alphateers' managed past security and begged for autographs. Ever the opportunist for good public relations, Trion obligated them before Notch and Swiss, the aforementioned chump bodyguards, scattered the crowd. Fortunately, the throng was in too good a mood to weigh in the watch dog's rude behavior.

As Trion posed with Cricket for a short photo session, Arcee rounded behind me and snuggled up to Magnus. She started the kiss. He could not resist and bent her back in his arms. I pretended not to notice and slapped on an even bigger smile when Trion and Cricket included me in several more photographs.

An eager Autobot reporter stepped around Trion's two brutes and faced his cameraman. "What a fabulous occasion! Autobot Elder Alpha Trion, not seen in almost a full year has arrived! Sir, Father Trion, can we ask what brings you to Earth?"

Trion posed like a respectable diplomat and laid a kind hand on the reporter's shoulder. "Well, two things, maybe three. First and foremost, I've not visited my 'children' here at Metroplex in quite the while. I really miss being here."

I wanted to gag.

"And secondly, I received news that the Metroplex Arts Assembly will be performing a number of operas, dramas and ensembles this week. And, of course, I've not seen our prestigious and personable Autobot leader in a very long time."

Trion once again lapped an arm across my shoulders and another storm of photo flashes bathed us in light. I picked up my grin where I dropped it a moment ago.

Except Magnus and Op, everyone believed my shit-eating grin. Trion could never figure whether or not I were honestly smiling -and I'd never disclose the truth. Mind games are all par for the course in my life.

Trion turned to me, a large gracious smile swept his new sharp, clean features. He was badly damaged during the Unicronian War and underwent extensive replacements, including a taller, bolder look. "Rodimus Prime!" he crowed above the applauding congregation. "It's wonderful to see you! How are you, my son?"

I hated it when he called me that. But we were in public where I could not balk. "**We're** all doing find, Alpha, thanks."

'We' was a secret cue, my way of reminding His Trionness that he needed to respect Magnus, Kup and Optimus and acknowledge them. Alpha Trion choo-chooed down the line of Metroplex senior staff. He hugged Kup: "How are you, old friend?"

He heartily greeted Magnus: "How are you, Magnus?" His voice inflected the enthusiasm of a rock celebrity. His face reflected the 'burdens' of diplomacy.

Magnus, stiff as the posture he kept, cracked a smile, shook Trion's hand, saluted. "Excellent, Sir."

Then he hardly greeted Optimus. Trion did not offer a shake-and Op did not expect one. Trion gave him a 'publicly acceptable,' respectful nod. "Optimus."

I ground my gears then flared into a huge grin three seconds before Alpha Trion turned to me. "Gentlemechs," he called, posturing toward Central Command. "Shall we?"

I led the way, Trion beside me. His Doberman body guards tagged after. Op and Magnus followed. Kup and his staff cornered off the slobbering reporters. Security opened the doors for our procession and not for the first time I wished they'd make Trion's brute squad sit outside.

Once inside, we took a lift to the next floor and entered a spacious meeting room complete with sunroof, wide windows and comfy seats. I preferred this to the conference room because it gave me a visual means of escape. Half the room was encircled by large tinted windows overlooking the Cascades. A small holographic visual of lighted strands danced in the center of a low-level table. Seating was arranged in circular fashion with arm rests and collapsible private monitors.

Trion's Doberman Pincers almost sat with us but I shot an angry look their way. I tolerated them, but I did not have to allow them courtesy.

They parked at the entrance and stabbed me in the back with angry optics. Sometimes I get the last word.

Mags settled at the seat closest to the entrance. Trion sat with his back to the windows. I faced the windows so I could gaze outside and pretend to listen at the same time.

Op sat next to me, sullen and silent. He stared into nothing. "Well!" my voice rang with enthusiasm. "How about this? You've not been here in five months, Alpha." I intentionally made an error with the monthly count.

Op leaned toward me, his expression vacant: "Seven, Rodimus," he quietly corrected.

I grinned, delighted to turn my attention off Trion. "Oh! You're right, Op! It's been longer, hasn't it?"

Trion was not amused. He hated it when I made every effort possible to include Optimus. Actually, Trion was not amused about anything regarding Optimus. And naturally, I have to push Trion's buttons. I decided to appoint Op as Metroplex's first city director. To everyone's amazement (I'll explain why later), Optimus handled the responsibilities quite well.

Naturally, that only irritated Trion more because A: he was proven wrong and B: he can't do anything to change it.

Trion put on a trying smile and looked to Ultra Magnus. "I trust your whole report is ready for review, City Commander?"

"Yes."

"And is it prepped for me to take it to the Administration?"

"It does not include today's entries."

Trion scooted to the edge of his seat, leaned over, elbows on knees and gazed at Magnus intently. "A good point, Ultra Magnus. And that brings me to a detail I need to discuss with our esteemed and devoted Autobot leader."

I hated it when he called me that, too. Trion and his gang, the Cybertron Defense Administration, considered themselves my bosses. They handled all of Cybertron while my jurisdiction was limited to Metroplex. But even then, I felt that responsibility slipping from me.

Trion acted as though it were difficult to explain himself. He hesitated, glanced at me, then Magnus and back to me. "I am here because Cold Front, who deals with security issues along the reconstructed Level Fourteen wards, suggested we temporarily increase Metroplex security. I realize that Ultra Magnus and Kup do a wonderful job. But Cold Front thinks it best that we employ the assistance of an old and well-experienced soldier."

My immediate answer was no but over the years, I've learned that immediate answers send Trion into a tizzy. Although he's worse than an old hen, Alpha Trion has been a great deal of help and I don't want to be ungrateful. He often reminds me that I can be an ass. "What makes Cold Front think Metroplex needs additional security?" I challenged. "Are we still at war?" I looked to Magnus for support but he said nothing.

Optimus came to my defense: "Has the Administration suddenly found Ultra Magnus' work unacceptable?"

I grinned inside.

"Oh, Primus, no!" Trion assured. "If anything, Magnus is doing a fabulous job! Why, Arcee tells me Magnus has incorporated EDC into security issues between Earth and Cybertron. Certainly, that was no small feat! But even our well-disciplined city commander cannot be everywhere at once."

That did not sit well with Magnus: "Metroplex is everywhere and he has never failed to communicate problems-potential or otherwise."

Trion held up his arms, defending his position. "I understand the reluctance. Certainly the Autobot leader realizes how confident _I_ am. But this was Cold Front's suggestion-"

"Cold Front once mistook his own reflection as a Decepticon spy." Optimus growled. "How much did he pay to get hired for his current position and whose daughter is he seeing?"

I could not hide my smile. Never play verbal tennis with Op.

Trion swept his gaze from Optimus to Magnus then me. "Obviously, Rodimus, you're going to allow someone else to speak for you today. Hm?"

Just to be annoying, I kept my mouth shut long enough for Mags to say something: "We'd just like to know why, Alpha Trion. That's all."

Trion glared at me. He hated my little games. "What?" I asked innocently. I waited a beat then shrugged. "Like Mags said. You know? You sorta dropped a bomb on us, Trion."

Optimus spoke up again, "Sounds more like he's trying to keep a tighter leash, Roddi."

"That's not true," Trion protested.

I found it difficult to keep a straight face. Op was right and Trion hated it when Op had a valid point in his left subspace pocket. But then, His Trionness never left home without his own license to argue.

"Metroplex and his people are extremely important to our society as a whole. We care about our Autobots on Earth."

"But," Optimus prodded, "suddenly you don't consider us competent enough to deal with our own problems." That was a button Op pushed.

Trion stared at Optimus a moment. He boiled under the lid. His expression turned irritated. "You know, Rodimus, if you need someone to hold your hand-"

I could not suppress my grin. "He's not holding my hand, Alpha Trion."

"Then why do you allow him to speak for you? He's not the Autobot leader. At least, last I heard."

I turned to my friend and laid a hand on his. "I don't mean to speak of you as though you're not here," I said in advance. Then I set my optics on our common opponent. "Optimus is as much a part of my staff as Kup and Magnus. Op helps me stay on top of stuff outside of Metroplex and handles all the small stuff that Kup and Magnus can't-"

Trion cut me off: "Roddi, Kup and Ultra Magnus are not disabled. Their meta-processors aren't damaged."

"They weren't brought back from the dead by the Matrix." I wished I had a cube of extra high-grade energon in a crystallized titanium container for every time I had to defend Op against Trion.

"Ah, yes. The Matrix-or maybe you simply don't know how to handle the Matrix properly." He stared through me. Trion's optics lit slightly. "Do you, Rodimus? Have you ever once asked me for help or guidance regarding our most precious relic?"

"The Matrix _chose me_. Since when did you become its instruction manual on two legs?"

Here we go again.

Trion held his hand up in defense. "Here, all I am attempting to say, my son, is that obviously there was a mistake and it is of my observation that by encouraging Optimus' participation, you continue to make the mistake thinking him capable of doing things he honestly can never do or be. I'm not saying you're wrong for loving Optimus, by no means. But carrying on this ... charade that he is normal and can recover is but a child's hope."

I lost my patience. "Oh. So now I'm childish because I believe Optimus will actually be able to reclaim his place as a Prime. I'm childish. Fine. I suppose you'd rather that Magnus just take over as a leader." I looked to Magnus. "Do you want the Matrix?"

Trion used his 'plaintive-mode' voice, patronizing and weary. "Oh, Rodimus, Please. Please, let's not go through this again. It's an old subject. And I did not come here to drag out the past. We are all on the same side here, really." Trion clasped his hands together and gazed at the table's holographic display. I took the momentary pause to glance at Op. He frowned, unimpressed with Trion's display of disappointment.

The two of us glanced at Magnus. He tapped something into a digipad and returned our gaze with a stone expression.

Optimus leaned forward, optics narrowed in suspicion. "Alpha Trion, you still have not told us the reason for extra security at Metroplex."

I watched Trion tense up. The truth did not look promising. The old coot knew I'd not want to hear his answer. "The Cybertron Defense Administration wants to set up a chamber hall right here at Metroplex."

"Thought so," Optimus muttered.

"What?!" Magnus exploded. "No! Absolutely not!"

"It's good for everyone," Trion insisted.

"Certainly," Optimus added, "every one of _them_."

Trion pointed to Optimus. "You are not involved in this-"

My turn, "Op's right."

"Rodimus, you've not even heard me out!"

"Not interested," I insisted.

Optimus took another shot: "The CDA is a political power grabbing machine and they have no right to any position not appointed by the Matrix. Their presence here is an obvious ploy to secure more control."

Trion glowered at Optimus and spoke to me, "Rodimus, I am _trying_ to do something good here and your guard dog keeps barking."

"Hey!" I snapped, "He has a right to a say-"

But Trion snapped his fingers and pointed to Optimus. The two chumps stepped up to remove my friend. "No!" I protested. "I said he has a right-"

"It's alright, Rodimus," Op said softly, "I am certain that sooner or later it won't matter what you say; he'll do as he pleases." Op met my optics dead on and spoke to me via internal commline. "_I don't trust him. But this just isn't the time to do anything."_

Optimus ascended from the area and one of Trion's Dobermans moved to lay an authoritative hand on him. Optimus' face grew dark with dangerous displeasure. Notch backed off. I almost blurted a warning. Even First Aid had to learn the hard way; Optimus doesn't like to be touched.

The air hung stale with silence. I grounded my gears, irritated. I did not want to discuss anything further with Alphalfa-T.

"Listen, Roddi," Trion's voice came patronizing, gentle. "The additional security won't intervene with operations. You won't even know he's here."

My optics darkened. "You know, I've seen this episode before. You said the Defense Administration was temporary. They were only supposed to be in place long enough to secure problems on Cybertron. That was seventy-plus years ago, Alpha-"

"It's not forever, Rodimus," the elder countered. "They're just tying up loose ends."

I stood and swung my arms in disbelief. "What fragging loose ends? For cryin' out loud, they've set up their own militia!"

"It's not a militia. It's a first-response team-"

"Bullshit." Magnus blurted.

"Yeah," I agreed, "like he said."

Trion sighed that one stupid sigh that supposedly said he was tired of it all. "You must agree with me, Roddi, that Cybertron is a big, big place and you, even by means of the Matrix, cannot control it all. You're down here. They're up there. And the Administration's entire agenda is simply to make things easier for you. That's it. No gimmicks or-or conspiracies as Optimus purports. And the ... extra security is here to work only upon visitation."

I did not believe a single word, but I felt calmer. "You said they wanted to build a new hall here."

"Yes," Trion nodded, "But we'd do it only if you, the Autobot leader of Metroplex-and of course, your courageous, dutiful city commander-agree upon it. Rodimus, just think it over. It's all I'm asking. I know you care about the Autobots as much as I do." Trion bobbed his head as to reaffirm his own words. "I know you'll do what's best for them."

That uncomfortable silence came between us. I could not refute that I cared about the Autobots, but I did not see how a new council chamber in Metroplex was supposed to benefit anyone but the bureaucrats.

I shook my head. "Okay," I said lightly. "I thought it over. The answer is still 'no'. No to the extra security and definitely no to the new hall. They don't need it. Metroplex is _not_ a vacation spot. And Magnus and I aren't going to play hosts to the whims of a bunch of pokies."

At first Trion dropped his face in shock. _Pokie_ was a derogatory word for politician-usually for a crooked politician. The oldest Autobot on Cybertron found my bluntness 'displeasing'.

Sometimes I wish I could actually feel guilty. But that was my view and I was not going to change it. Trion looked hurt. He nodded, giving in. "I know somehow you must realize I don't ask much of you, Rodimus. But when I do, you just don't seem capable of reciprocating. I don't ... I don't know where I went wrong. I just don't." He looked to Magnus, "Maybe you could explain it to me sometime, Ultra Magnus."

I folded my arms, prepared to stand my ground. But Trion merely exited the room like a whipped dog.

All I wanted to do now was burn off my irritation. Mags collected his digipad and prepared to leave. He turned to me, his expression neutral. "I think you hurt his feelings, Rodimus."

"Right. Because I'm childish and selfish and I don't feel like catering to a group of robotic leeches."

Magnus stared at the door as though looking for Uncle Trion. "Well ... would it really hurt to try to compromise?"

I stared back and dropped all emotion. "Magnus, ever hear about the pet virus in the system? It wants to play while you're working so you give it a minute or two of your time-and your RAM. Then it begs and pleads for more. To shut it up, you give in and give in and allow it more and more time. Then before you realize it, you're no longer in control."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Some events discussed in this chapter are similar to those in the story "Photograph". Please keep in mind that the two stories are similar, but do not take place in the same universe.

CHAPTER 2

OPTIMUS

I love Quintessons. No, really, I do. They're the one equation in my life that makes confrontation super simple. See, they're bad. Autobots good (usually), Quintessons bad. If I have interplanetary problems, it's because of Quintessons. If I have trade agreement difficulties because of piracy, it's because of Quintessons. If I have a _headache_, it's because of Quintessons.

Not _always_, but _usually_.

Why? Do you want a _list_? Here's my top three from the least to the worst: 1. The Quintessons tried to turn the Decepticons against us.

Okay, I know you're thinking, 'Duh, Rodimus. As if it takes _brains_ to encourage the 'Cons to pick a fight.' No, no. listen up. After the Hate Plague, the Decepticons declared a temporary truce. It was all good. We even managed to set up something resembling a trade agreement. I wanted weapons, they wanted energon-and I worked only with Cyclonus. So anyway, the Quints came up with this crazy conspiracy: they'd stir trouble by introducing a rogue group of Decepticon femmes from far, far away.

The reason the Quints' idea backfired is rather than adding more Decepticons to the aggression pact, the Quints instigated (accidently) a civil war among the Decepticons. The femmes disliked Galvatron's administration right off the bat. They fought, Galvatron lost and now Cyclonus is the Decepticon leader. So stuff turned out okay in the end.

The second reason Quints are a pain in my aft is their sordid attempt to take over Cybertron. Now, their attempt to take Cybertron happened _before_ they brought the D-femmes on the scene. But their attempt to take Cybertron is higher on my piss-list than the civil war among our neighbors. And yes, that plot failed too cuz Spike Witwicky gave his life to stop them.

I sure miss him.

Anyway, we have Cybertron, the Quints waged war and in the process, they blew up the space platform, Gate 09-A and Pluto. Yeah, the _whole_ planetoid of Pluto was blown. Two hundred and thirteen Autobot casualties.

Okay, topping my piss-list of Quintesson mischief occurred four years ago when they attempted to eradicate all life by means of a plague.

After the incident with Pluto, the Quintessons all disappeared. No news, no sightings, no Valentines Day cards, nothing. Not a peep for almost a complete year and a half.

Weird.

Then one morning this package arrived. The Paratrons love presents. Believe me, holidays haven't been the same since their annexation.

So they see this big box addressed to the city from the Krowleys-a race of little guys who have befriended us. So the staff at shipping and receiving assumed it was safe. They did not call security. They did not call Magnus or notify me. They brought the box into the city and found Optimus Prime lying in it. He was clean and repaired and all shined up just like a corpse in an open casket. That's exactly what he was.

According to surveillance cameras, Op's head lifted when the box opened and he breathed out red smoke.

Technically, Perceptor said, it was a form of dust; very fine dust molecules bearing the mother of all diseases: the Hate Plague. I'd never seen anything spread so fast. The entire city was contaminated in the matter of hours. Then the Plague jumped species. From Autobots to Humans. From Humans to aliens. From there it attacked animals and insects. It traveled through

every channel conceivable and jumped from planet to planet literally in a matter of days.

I was out of town at the time and unaware of the situation until I saw it on the emergency broadcast frequency. Not only did the plague resist all attempts at a cure, there was no one left on Earth or Cybertron who had the brains to deal with it. So I returned to Earth and used the Matrix.

Everyone was cured, sanity was restored and Optimus came to life.

For real.

But he didn't come back quite like the old Optimus. He came to us with fragmented memories. He communicated on the level of a twelve year-old. And he had a problem with facial recognition.

We're now on year four of cognitive and processing therapy. He's improved by leaps and bounds. But it takes Op time to process and apply what he learns. Trion and I get into cat fights over Op. Trion considers Optimus a Quintesson abomination. And he tells me I should have terminated the body the day we found him conscious.

No way. Something in me said this was what the Matrix wanted. Otherwise, why would he come back?

Besides, I don't care what Trion says. I love Op and I want to do everything I can for him. He's helped me immensely. Not only is it nice to have someone do icky process work, but Op fills in when I can't be around. He's not incompetent he's just a bit slow.

Unfortunately, there have been some drawbacks. The worst of them was over a girl.

Today we have a doctor's appointment with the savvy Dr. Ozzy Mendez and then Op and me head off to processing therapy. After Op seriously injured First Aid I thought it might be better if a Human doctor attended Optimus. The first few months of his return, Op suffered violent nightmares. He went on a trip through a private hell and took me along. That is to say, I had 'echoes' of those nightmares in my sleep. The Matrix sometimes does not distinguish us. I've thought about sending the Matrix through a crash course of Prime 101. But I doubt it'll help.

I entered Dr. Mendez's office where Op sat on the exam table and joined my friend. I liked Dr. Ozzy He gets me, he really does. Better than that, Op likes him too and allows the Human touch him.

At the moment, Optimus gazed elsewhere, refusing to greet me. I sensed his guilt. Sometimes dealing with Op was like dealing with a child. That doesn't bother me, but I worry because he can be so freaking sensitive. "Hey!" I plastered on a real smile. "You know you got under Trion's skin yesterday."

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"So ... what's eating at you? Why are you dissatisfied?"

"It was a mistake."

"It was NOT a mistake," I countered. "You called his bluff, Op. Trion's ... trying to be a nuisance."

Optimus turned to me like a beaten dog. "I got you into trouble, Roddi."

"Hey! We've been over this page before. Don't you remember what I keep telling you? I'm _always_ in trouble." I laid a hand on his shoulder (I'm the only one who can) and stared into his optics. "I'm glad you were there."

The doctor arrived ending our conversation. He peered over the silver rim of his reading glasses."Ah-hah!" Ozzy sang. "I thought I heard two voices. But according to my schedule, it's one city director, not a director and a Prime."

"It's a packaged deal today," I declared. "Two for the price of one. Op came here, I decided to be his potty pal."

They both stared at me. Ah, if only all moments were this priceless.

Ozzy flipped screens on his electric pad. I'm sorry, Rodimus, there's nothing I can do for you. You are permanently brain damaged. As for you, Optimus, not enough down-time. Stress levels are too high again. Your cognitive reaction time is slower than my old dog's."

Guilt ate into me and I laid a hand on his shoulder again. Optimus' current condition was my fault. I thought it would do him some good to have a life outside his office. So I suggested he visited Daniel Witwicky's little girl, Rusti.

The child was sick but on the edge of recovery. Optimus adored her. She breathed life into him and I thought-I hoped he'd keep improving. My intentions turned disastrous.

She died and his heart died with her. Optimus became emotionally lifeless. In part, I believe he thinks he's to blame for her death. I have no idea how to deal with it. I'm not giving up; I just need a new plan.

Shouting voices and banging fists echoed down the hall. Op and I exchanged annoyed looks. We knew _that_ particular instigator. "Twin Twist." we said simultaneously. The Autobot in question always ended up in Magnus' office. Twin Twist pushed my buttons so that I wanted to rearrange his body parts. That was an unspoken agreement between me and Mags; I handled all outside negotiations, contracts and bureaucrats. And Magnus dealt with internal affairs-especially insubordinates like Twin Twist, Slag, Huffer and Stratus.

I hopped off the table. "Stay here." I jokingly ordered Op. "I gotta tell the kids to chill out." I earned a slight smile. Good enough.

Twin Twist had the fuse of a firecracker and lately the lead grew shorter while his mouth grew larger. I found myself considering less favorable options.

I interrupted a heated argument between Twin Twist and Gears. Twist tried to stare me straight down. "Well, well. Benevolent leader is here to keep the peace. Tell me, Rod, done much dictating today?"

"You're really pushing it, Twin Twist." I snarled. "It's a good thing we're not on snuggling terms."

"Is that right? Afraid yer out t' hurt my feelings? Hmm?" Twist stood upon his foretoes to reach my height. With one hand on his head, I pushed him down, unamused. "You're yanking my chains, Twin Twist. My chain doesn't like to be yanked. And seeing that you have so much energy at the mouth, I'll let Magnus know he's got a volunteer to repaint the space dock ports."

"That's not funny, Rodimus."

"Awe, do I look like I'm laughing?"

He cursed me under his breath and feigned a strike at Gears who flinched.

Gears' optics smoldered as the JumpStarter stomped down the hall, smacking CDA propaganda posters and whistling Pop Goes the Weasel. With a grunt, I returned to the exam room.

Op and Ozzy's voices in private conversation forced me to pause before the door. Over time eavesdropping became a habit. In fact, an ambassador-friend of mine gave me two special invisibility cloaks when my bad habit saved her from assassination. I freely admit to using them. What troublemaker wouldn't?

I listened as Doc Mendez rattled off a long list of stuff. "Yeah, you're visual is good. Your joints are doing better. How's the memory?"

"Memory?"

"Hmhm. The thing that lets you remember to call me if something goes wrong."

Outside the room, my laser core hurt for Op. Because of his 'mighty leader' facade, Op found it difficult to confide in anyone, even now, when he is no longer a Prime. He talks to me, but at times it's difficult because he knows how unpredictable I can be. It's frustrating; I have to remind myself to sit still and listen.

Optimus remained quiet a long time and I could not decide to step in and intervene or not. But he answered with a measure of chosen words. "I can recall a few things, Ozzy, when I am still. Sometimes when I'm at rest, echoes of voices haunt me. Sometimes they speak faintly. Whispers of events and people another life ago. Sometimes they cry clear and sudden like the crack of a manual gun. In fact, Thundercracker and Pixel are two such names. I think Pixel was a doctor. And I think there was someone else named Prowl."

Ozzy Mendez said nothing for several moments. His fingers poked the keys on his digipad. "Oh!" the doctor's voice rang with enthusiasm. "You're right, Optimus! There really was a Thundercracker. He died during the Unicronian War."

"Was he an officer?"

"He was a Decepticon."

"Oh." Optimus sounded confused.

"And you're right. Pixel was a doctor on Cybertron but she existed eight million years ago."

"I see."

"And Prowl. Yes. Prowl it says here was your tactical officer. Seems your memory is improving."

"No. I don't think so. They're Matrix-memories."

"Hmm. How are you otherwise? How are you emotionally?"

Again Op idled in a long pause. "Almost not one night goes by that I do not have a disturbing dream. And ... and I miss Rusti. I miss her."

"The girl?"

"Yes. I wake, mourning for her. Something's missing, Ozzy. And I thought it was there and now she's gone and I can't seem to get it back, no matter what I do. It's upsetting that I became so fond of her. I don't know why. I don't know why her life-her death affects me so deeply."

"It's a part of the grieving process. Perhaps you loved her more deeply than you realize-or admit to yourself. I'll make a note of this and submit it to Sameko. Are you seeing her today?"

"Yes."

I took that moment to stroll in. I dusted my hands of non-existent dirt, hopped on the table with Op and tugged a smile on my face. "Well, I think Twin Twist will have something to think about for a short while."

Optimus shook his head. "Hopefully longer than a short while, Rodimus. If I had my way, I'd leave him dangling from the top of the communications tower to give him plenty to think about."

I tossed him a practical smile. "You would not," I argued. "He's not worth the spectacle."

"That's not what Trion seems to think-or Arcee for that matter." Optimus frowned, annoyed.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Dr. Ozzy cut in, "it means he's about to embark upon the notorious Metroplex Rumor Mill. I hear all of it; he's going out with her, she's secretly seeing him, but is in love with Alpha Trion, on and on and on."

I scrunched my face in confusion. "Do I have a place somewhere in that mill, Doc? Or are you willing to tell me?"

Mendez scribbled another note to himself on his tablet. "I know lots of stuff about you, Rodimus. You disappear once a week, each week, leaving poor Optimus here to deal with carnivorous reporters, clueless Autobots and post-it notes from CDA. Your approval ratings are up and down, depending on the crisis of the month and-oh yes, and there _is one_ rumor about you; they say Loni Carlson from KSUN-TV is one of your biggest fans." Ozzy raised his eyes over his glasses again. "I think you should ask her out."

"Really?" I turned to Optimus, "Does this mean I have a girlfriend?"

Psycho-therapist Sameko Yanovuji originated from a small town at the northern tip of Japan. No taller than five feet, she operated with a talent six other therapists couldn't conjure if Primus himself slapped them silly with it.

As Optimus and I settled on the lawn for the weekly therapy session, I took the moment to chill. Sameko conducted our sessions on a rooftop garden forested with off-world trees and plants. A small population of song birds welcomed us with unbelievable serenity. Sameko's amazing techniques gave Optimus precisely what he needed. One of the earlier therapists, Barbara, insisted we sit in a dead-silent and sterile office environment. She was lucky if Op said more than three words the five months we visited her.

Another shrink, Jim, implied Op's processing difficulties were a result of laziness and insubordination. He also hinted I stunted Op's cognitive growth by failing to force him to do more. Jim made both of us crazy with guilt and I realized he was doing more harm than good.

Sameko entered the garden and Op and I stood and greeted her in the traditional Japanese fashion.

I grinned. Sameko came to us today wearing a beautiful graceful kimono. She dressed in ancient Japanese fashion from bound hair style and white makeup to the bold, sturdy fan and sandals. Behind her, Sameko's assistant, dressed in similar fashion. She carried a tray laden with a delicate tea pot, a single cup and a sugar bowl. Behind _her_, an Autobot femme, Azine, brought a tray of similar objects for me and Op, filled with ten-weight gadolium.

Sameko signaled us to sit and we settled on the green turf while she sat on her customary blue turquoise pillow.

The tea tray lowered before her and the assistant bowed away. Azine copied and disappeared. Sameko lifted her left forefinger. We watched in silence as she first scooped tea then poured water. She stirred once and held the tiny decorative spoon with delicate precision. Sugar came next. One spoonful. Stir once. Spoon at rest. Sameko folded her hands and waited. Optimus had to do everything first; I was permitted to join, but not to help or teach.

I suspected the lesson was not to simply copy Sameko, but adjust the actions translating the custom into an Autobot style. Optimus stared at the tea. His optics compared her tray to his gadolium in one container, manganese in a smaller, fancier dish. Optimus measured the ten-weight as he poured then stirred. He applied the vanadium and stared, fascinated by the colorful reaction. He tried to hold the spoon just so, but did not quite succeed. Optimus placed hands in lap and looked to Sameko for evaluation.

But Sameko withheld judgement until I made my attempt. I managed to pour the gadolium right, but got greedy with vanadium. I buried my hands and grinned. Sameko lifted her cup, waited for us to copy, sipped once then returned it to its dish. She waited until Op set his cup down. "Now, express your experience."

Op hesitated, searching for just the right words. "Confusion. Uncertainty. Confusion."

"You speak these words, Optimus-san. Yet you refuse the details. In expressing and communicating with me, you give me two words. You force me to determine your meaning. You force me to guess and assume. Now, you said 'confusion' twice. Explain this."

Again he hesitated. "I did not understand the reason behind the event."

"You expect the event to be self-explanatory."

"Yes."

"Events are made by people. Not the other way around. Therefore, it is not the event you find confusing, but _me._"

Op wanted to say something but his words would not assimilate themselves. Patient as always, Sameko took her eyes off him and sipped her tea. I loved her methods. By doing something else, she gave him time and room to process the information and come to his own conclusions.

Finally Optimus spoke. "You are enacting social protocol through dress and ritual. And ... because I am expected to copy, it means we are experiencing the same moment. However, we are not experiencing the same moment the same way. You are dressed for the event. I am not."

She nodded. "Right. What does this say to you, Optimus-san?"

Sometimes it was painful to watch him process and apply. But resolute, Sameko remained patient. Op kept his optics on her then tilted his head just so. "You attempt to initiate the event and I respond by correspondence, by copying the actions."

She glowed with pride. "Excellent. And Rodimus, the ceremony is _one_ spoon of sweetner. It is a ritual, not a party."

"Yes, ma'am."

She attended Op again. "Do your dreams haunt you? Dr. Ozzy submitted his concern to me."

"Yes."

"Did you wish to talk of them?"

His head bowed and I hurt for him. "Rusti," he whispered. "She speaks to me. I tell her she is supposed to be dead, though I do not want her to leave me again."

Sameko and I watched him struggle through distressed emotions and mental barriers. "I am often confused," Optimus mourned in soft, velvet tones. He did not weep, but pain, clear and deep, wove between the consonants. "I see faces and hear voices, even when I am awake. I hear _her_ voice and I call to her only to find my head playing games with me. But what is more disturbing are shadow-memories. I think I see a face of someone I once knew then the features change into someone else."

Sameko nodded. "This I can understand, Optimus-san. Rodimus once told me the ability of a Prime is having automatic and personal knowledge of almost every Autobot."

"Yes," Optimus concurred, "but I am not a Prime."

"How can you _not_ be a Prime? Do you no longer hear the Music of the Matrix?"

My lasercore vibrated hard. Even before the Matrix came to me, I heard its melodies. I've never known life without it.

"On the contrary," Optimus replied, his voice stronger, "I hear the Matrix more passionately, more clearly than ever. I dream I am the universe."

Sameko raised her brows. "Intriguing. And what did you do, how did you feel?"

"I breathed. I expanded until I split into pieces. Some pieces died. Others formed new universes and became ancient; the dead absorbed by the living."

"Wow," I quipped. "I'd like to be a universe someday."

She smiled. "Optimus-san, can you find a parallel of such a thing in your life now? Maybe that you feel as though you are doing too much?"

"No. I think it is a Matrix-dream. I think it's an expression differentiating between alternate realities and temporary parallel dimensions."

She stared at him, just as confused of his Matrix dreams as he of her tea ceremony. Sameko nodded and slowly blinked. "So, does the _Matrix_ dream and then you dream what it dreams?"

He considered her question. His concentrated gaze reflected expansive awareness; knowledge beyond experience. I've witnessed this look before, but never prior to his death. Optimus answered: "I am the Matrix."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

NEMESIS

_From the grandeur of Oregon's Cascade Mountains to the busy streets of the New York shoreline. From the lunar colony to your home, it's Seven A.M. Rise! Now with your host, Annie Day!_

(Applause)

_"Good Morning, Metroplex! And a luscious one it is, too! We have a spectacular treat today! The one, the mighty, Alpha-T!"_

(Cheers, applause)

I grunted, less than enthused. Mags and I poured through security logs at his desk while his large video screen played another one of Trion's ridiculous public appearances. We waited for the new schmuck-uh security assistant to arrive. It burned me that Trion pulled wires behind my back and introduced the new security officer to Kup two days ago.

"_Isn't he just a doll?" _Annie Day declared. Applause and cheers followed her remark.

I grunted as I signed off eight EDC documents corresponding Kup's reports. All those tablets landed on a not-so-neat pile at my feet. A time discrepancy during the afternoon shift popped up on another digipad. I scratched a note and sent it to Op's attention. He tracked discrepancies like a starving Dinobot.

Trion's 'grandpa voice' made my lip components line at the corners. _"Well, you know, Cybertron is preparing to invite Human commerce. What we want to do is set up sections for hydroponics-gardens and once that's established, it's just a matter of time before we can allow whole families to colonize on our planet. There's plenty of room and we've been hoping to share our homeworld with our neighbors."_

Trion's news piqued my interest. It was the first time I'd heard of it.

_"How do you plan to do that?" _Annie asked.

_"Well, we're currently working with Rodimus Prime to secure a sliver of water rights from the Antarctic and transport it to Cybertron."_

Now I looked to the screen.

It caught Magnus' attention, too. "You didn't tell me, Rodimus. What's going on?"

"Dunno. I didn't tell me, either."

Annie gave the camera a surprised/impressed expression. "_How long do you think this will take?"_

_"We're looking at a five-year plan. But we also have other brands in the fire, Annie. I speak, of course, about the new Mars project_."

My optics dimmed in suspicion. What else was Trion doing behind my back? I plugged in a line to Op, asking if he was watching the show.

[Naturally,] he answered. [you know he'll quiz you on it later.]

Magnus' comline softly beeped. Confusion crossed my features, puzzled as to whom called him via 'landline.' I leaned back in my chair and tuned into Annie Day just as the city commander answered his call.

"Magnus," He replied. "Oh, hi, Bunny. Yes. I'd love to, Arcee, but I can't get away at the-" Magnus grinned and faced his windows. I shook my head, knowing Arcee was talking nasty. Magnus drew a deep breath. "I think-anything you like is good with me, Angel. You know that-I _do_ have a preference and I _do_ care. All I want is whatever makes you happy. I love to see you happy."

No one likes an angry Arcee. I concentrated on last week's logs, burying my attention from Magnus and Trion. A second time discrepancy blinked across a fourth datapad and rather than bog Op down with another thing to track, I decided to do this myself.

SECURITY GATECHECK: 9:30 A.M.

MODULUS REPORTING FOR EASTSIDE REPAIRS

I wracked my head for an Autobot-_any_ Autobot named Modulus. Think. Think. Think. Who's Modulus? I almost never have to use the roster and even more seldom do I use either Kup's or Magnus' personnel directories. Modulus? There _is no Modulus!_

My optics darkened. I took back the other discrepancy from Op's to-do list and back-tracked to the officer in charge that day. Who worked where, why, who's assigned, where, why and when-bingo.

Modulus.

The room stagnated in silence and I looked to Magnus. He now spoke to _her_ internally. "Mags," I called. "Ultra Magnus." He turned, his face flushed and a dopey grin lifted his expression to one side. I set my expression firmly. "Tell her to call when you're off duty. We have stuff to do."

Magnus smacked me with a scathing glare. I volleyed back with authority, determined to end the conversation. His optics lit with anger. "I'm sorry, Bunny. my boss, Mr. Macho, wants my attention. What?" he asked her defensively. "Arcee, I have to go. There's things I need-no, it's not like that!"

"Magnus!" I insisted. Why couldn't he just kiss her good-bye and be done with it?

"Arcee, you know that I love you and I want to spend as much time-please don't be mad. It's already-Oh!" Magnus's voice sharpened. "Well, maybe you'd prefer to spend the night with him, too! Fine! Don't bother!" Magnus fumed. His lip components solidified as he leered. "Thanks a LOT, Rodimus!"

"What?!" I snapped. "You're WORKING, Ultra Magnus!"

"We're not in the middle of a meeting! There's no world-ending emergency! The call wasn't that big of a deal!"

"That's not the point." I returned sternly.

"Well, now I have you to thank for getting her all riled again. Thank you VERY much for ruining the rest of my day!"

Unable to say another word without exploding, I hurled my findings at him as Annie Day said good-bye to an additional guest and returned to Trion.

_"There is a rumor that Metroplex may soon see a new development," _she started. Her comment pulled my optics back to the screen. Magnus stopped reading my findings.

_"Yes!_" Trion answered with too much enthusiasm. "_Our wonderful and benevolent Defense Administration has seen an opportunity to improve on Autobot City._"

"Awe Primus," I swore "Do NOT tell me ..."

Annie Day smiled. _"How will this new addition affect Autobots and the city itself?"_

_"Well, as you know, we've had a number of conflicts with the Quintessons, the most recent, of course, proved fairly catastrophic. The CDA members are greatly concerned for the people they serve. After all, that's what we're here for: to serve and protect our people and our valued Human friends."_

I sneered and growled. "Well, that's a load of gunk."

"Rodimus!" Magnus snapped.

"What?"" I shot back, irate.

"I know you're not happy with the Administration, but do you have to keep grunting over Trion's comments?"

"Yes, I do," I sang, defiant. "Are you even paying attention to what he's saying? Has_ either he or _his_ daughter mentio_ned this to you wi_thout notifying me? Who's supposed to_ be in charge? It doesn't sound like I am-or at least from what I've seen and heard over the last few years."

Magnus merely frowned, his temper alleviated. "You have mentioned the Administration's been helpful in a lot of ways, Rodimus."

"Yeah. Sixty years ago when I was sick as a two-bit datadroid, Magnus. But pasting propaganda posters, kissing everyone's aft while rationing supplies when there's surplus and making laws based on accidents is NOT common sense leadership."

"Stop," he growled.

"And anyone knows the bigger the target-"

"Rodimus!"

"-the easier the score."

"Alright! I get it!"

"Yay!" and I applauded. "Congrats, Mags! Tell me, did you grow a new frontal lobe, or did the one you've got suddenly reactivate?"

He gave me a murderous gaze and I held my hands up to ward him off: "just thought I'd ask!" I clammed up before I found my aft kicked up between my shoulder struts.

We labored in silence half an hour after Annie Day ended and some stupid game show came on. Midday news followed. Trion yammered something about peace, safety and cooperation. Yadda, yadda, yadda. He loved the press.

I spotted Blurr's name in the traffic reports. It did not appear once, twice or even three times. Nope. Not Mr. Speedball with fizzle for a meta-processor. Nightbeat, Officiarius and Kup himself wrote Blurr up for speeding a total of thirty-six times in the last two weeks. I slapped the pad on Magnus' desk, leaned back in the chair and stared out the window overlooking the courtyard one story down where Trion currently made his speech.

"You know," I said absently, "I think I'll let Op handle Blurr. It'll be good for him to make some sort of judicial decision." Magnus responded with a grunt.

"Maybe I'll let Op learn your desk too, Mags. You know, just in case you need help or end up transferred."

"Hmm hmm. Hmph. Mags paid no mind and now I wanted his attention.

My mischief roused. "Or I could assign you to shuttle repair for a giggle or two. Op can babysit the city. I'll take Arcee dancing."

"Mmm."

No luck whatsoever. I sat up. "Magsy, what, by Primus, are you doing?"

"Calculating the percentages in which Blurr runs stop signs or traffic signals verses the number of times caught. And then I'll compare that to a percentage of one hundred other Autobots to see how he ranks compared to the average then cross-reference that between Metroplex and the city he's assigned to on a weekly basis."

I planted my gaze at the City commander, unsure whether to laugh at his fastidious, anal nature. Or I might tell him he's a nerdy weirdo then duck as he takes a swing.

"You know, Rodimus," he continued, "I should take into account the number of stop signs verses traffic lights since there's greater risk involved with traffic lights than stop signs."

I actually tried to sound uber-serious. "And the point if it all is...?"

Magnus looked mortified, annoyed. "So that I can explain to him why his speeding is such a nuisance! Do you not realize the number of accidents he causes or almost causes? Primus, Rodimus, don't you slagging pay _any_ attention at all?"

A familiar tapping at the door saved Magnus my smart remark and a potential argument. We turned to the door as Magnus granted entry.

Trion joined us, glowing as though someone gave him a new turbo kitten. "Well! That was well-received! I think we should take the rest of the evening off." He clasped his hands together and grinned.

Using slight-of-hand I patched into a news network for headlines and cliff notes. I grinned as it loaded so I did not look too much like an ignoramus. "What, uh, what'd you have in mind for the evening?" I asked, one optic to the pad.

"Oh. Well," Trion clucked, "I know how you enjoy music, Rodimus." I smiled. He smiled. I stopped smiling. "I think an opera would be a healthy experience."

I forced a second smile just as the headlines rolled across the top of my digipad:

**PUBLIC APPROVES NEW ADMINISTRATION HALL.**

** Trion, Prime to Start Building in One Week. **

He did it. He went behind my back after I rejected the proposal. It was like having a knife on one side and a thorn on the other. Never defeated, I had a card of my own to play. "So!" I proclaimed, "Which high-pitched elongated musical are we sleeping through? La Boehme, Idomenco ..."

Trion's lip components tightened. "Well, Rodimus, I thought I'd let _you_ choose. We can go see La Traviata or Man from La Manchu or-"

"Cats?" I interjected. I enjoyed the blank look on his face and pushed it one more step: "Pink Floyd's The Wall?"

He seethed under that well-practiced patronizing facade. "Rodimus!"

Before he added another protest, I tossed in one more thing: "I want Optimus to join us."

His face froze, reproving to frost-bite temperatures. I did not care. He sighed, exasperated and spoke with an exaggerated tone that always rebooted my mood into safe mode. I hated the condescension; I never figured a way around it. He put on _that_ smile. "You know, Rodimus, I worry about you. I know how much you care for Optimus, the admirable concern you have for him. But you border on the obsessive-"

"I am NOT obsessed!" I retorted. "Just because-"

"My dear lad, you drag him everywhere like a second shadow. It is painfully obvious, my sweet Rodimus, that you feel responsible for him. But I assure you it is unnecessary. I know you are confused about Optimus and I wish you would just listen to my advice. You know I care about you, Roddi and it pains me to see you do this to yourself."

I stared until his smile faded. Trion did not fool me. "I am not discussing this." I said with finality. I abandoned Magnus' office, disgusted.

"What is _with_ you?" Trion chased me down the corridor, his diplomatic manners forgotten. "Rodimus, will you stop being narrow-minded and juvenile for once and _listen_ to me? You think you are so right all the time. Just listen to me!"

I shot him the evil optic. "What?"

"Look..." he paused to cool down, "Look, I know Optimus is important to you. You think you saved him; that you can bring him back to his old self. But honestly, Roddi, he's... he's not some _pet_ you can feed or teach to roll over. He's a sparkless zombie-"

"Oh, fucking Primus on high!"

"He's just an automaton-and stop cursing in front of me."

"You know what? we're done for the day. Okay? I am going to the little bot-boy's room and play with my toys while I weigh the balance between being a social placater and someone who has a mind and life of his own." And off I walked. "I am NOT one of your puppets, Trion!" I punctuated for emphasis.

"This is childish, Rodimus!" Trion shouted down the hall. I flipped him the bird and just kept going.

Cooling down, I visited the subject of Trion's irritation. Op sat in his study watching the same telecast I half-minded in Magnus' study. I politely tapped the doorpost and pasted on a smile.

"Hey," I greeted. He studied me with bright optics but said nothing. At least there wasn't anything sad or annoyed in his expression. Optimus almost never smiled since Rusti's death. Sometimes I wish I could use the Matrix to remove everyone's sorrow and pain.

Stepping into the office, I cast my optics upon the series of giant picture windows that made the office back wall. Optimus' office was better than mine. Not because he had to have a nicer office, but because he easily felt confined. I wasted no time replacing his back wall with windows and ordered them cleaned once a week. Op also hung huge prints along the opposite wall. I thought it weird that he'd have an enormous view behind him and still wanted Maxfield Parish prints in front.

Not that I minded Maxfield Parish. His work was very cool. But my tastes ran toward the mid-1980's pop art that offered a sense of the abstract. Not entirely abstract, but enough to keep the optics from leaving the canvass too soon. And thinking on it now, it seemed odd that neither Op nor I had artwork from our homeworld.

Sounds from the giant televisor echoed the same BS I just walked from a minute ago. "Op," I started, "Too much bull in one day isn't healthy for you. Go outside and play with the Dinobots."

Of course he ignored my jokes. "Trion went completely around you."

"I know."

"Why is he so desperate? What's he after?"

"I dunno. You tell me." I lined my lip components and found six digipads running programs. Two waited for a response from Skyfire and another from Springer. Another digipad, an older model, communicated with Cosmos. "Hey," I chimed, "what's this?"

"A communique with Cosmos."

"Yeah, I see that. But what's it about?"

Optimus shifted from the televisor to me with grim uncertainty. He worked on something fairly serious. "Cosmos has picked up communications on Mars."

I flinched and twisted my expression with confusion. "Huh? That can't be right. No one's built anything on Mars yet. I mean, Trion says he wants to."

"On the surface, perhaps, Rodimus. But Aces Six says he crossed a report from CDA member Solara to Exel Pi about a series of caves where scouts found evidence of isotrype. And two months ago, they found something that might be worth looking into."

"Oh yeah? Like what, new meta processors for the anal-minded?"

Optimus hesitated. I confused him. He could not tell whether or not I was joking. Optimus picked everything apart, analyzed, defined and organized it into something that resembled a mathematical equation. His processing disability forced me to tone down the logic loops I'd often throw at Magnus or Springer.

I once made the mistake of using nonsensical language in a rhyme. Optimus struggled to understand and decipher it for weeks. It landed him in repair bay with damaged reroutes. Dr. Mendez almost had plastic surgery in order to remove the glare on his face.

Well, not really, no. But he didn't look at me any other way for quite a long time.

Optimus decided I was not asking a trick question. "Zinc-compounded carlonium crystals. And Cosmos has found readings indicating hand-made materials; cryo-dilithium compounds and quadro-selenic titanium. I'm guessing you know what that means."

I sat at the corner of his desk, astounded. "Someone's already been building something on Mars and creating assembly stations for cryogenics for-"

"Black energon," he finished.

"Yeah. But I thought that formula was lost to the Golden Ages."

Optimus took the pad and switched windows to display a satellite photo. He handed me the digipad and I scrolled around until I realized one small area displayed static. "What's this?"

"Frequency jamming."

"The structure, maybe? Proof that someone is building on the planet?"

"It gets better," Optimus tempted. He took the tablet back, switched windows and returned it to me.

"Yeah..." I whispered thoughtfully. The structure huddled in a canyon dropping a solid one and a half miles into the Martian soil. I noticed faint hints of a landing pad on the rooftop.

"Cosmos returned later to see if there was any activity. He spotted two sharkticons and something that looked like a dead organic body."

I returned the digipad and mused a second. "Who else knows?"

"No one I've told."

"And I suppose I'm 'No One', right?" I grinned, hoping he'd catch on.

Optimus' optics reflected concentration. I wish I knew whether or not he'd ever laugh again. He continued his report and although his face remained sober, I heard the smile in his voice. "I enjoy watching you reset the status quo, Rodimus."

Surprised, I shifted a little further on the desk, arms folded. "How's that?"

"You know what he's trying to do and you refuse to follow," Op answered, meaning Trion.

I frowned. "Yeah, well, Trion considers it childish."

"The Matrix chose you for a specific reason. Just because you refuse to fit into Trion's parameters and cater to him doesn't mean-"

I slapped my forehead. "Trion! Op! I'm supposed to tell you that we're going to an opera!"

That threw him too and he paused. "An opera, Rodimus?"

"Yeah. You know-a show where people sing in a really weird-"

"I know what an opera is. I'm wondering _why_ we're going."

"Alpha Trion's idea. And you know he won't take no for an answer."

Optimus set his gaze on the silent monitor and I realized he hadn't been out since her death. I said it before and I'll repeat it: Rusti should never have died.

****

I wish I could take credit for the designs behind the concert hall. It's one of my favorite areas in Metroplex other than the three high-ascension freeways forbidden to Human drivers. The concert hall accommodated people of all sizes and shapes and offered three seating levels. At the time of Metroplex's designs, Jazz went through an Oriental craze and he and Grapple labored hard to give the concert hall an ancient Japanese feel complete with relief work, painted ceilings and brushwork detailed enough to make history teachers green with art envy. My favorite area was the Samurai. I made sure I sat in that section. Not simply because the armor was cool; the artwork scrawled the wall in ancient tales of heros and dragons. It was also closest to the front and not where Uncle Trion liked to sit.

Springer met us at the gateway entrance. Autobots and other citizens of Metroplex passed us with furtive glances toward Optimus. No matter what I did or said, people felt uncomfortable around Op. They looked to him as someone who ... well, okay, yeah; someone who came out of the grave. Optimus doesn't look dead. But maybe it's how he stared at them with emotionless optics.

Springer nudged me. "_It's_ here."

"What?" I asked.

"Shhh! I said, that oversized tin soldier of Trion's is here."

Optimus waited until Cloudraker and his clone passed by. "Who, Springer?"

"That overbearing, loud-mouth gargoyle. Sixshot."

I flinched. "What?! That can't be-" my optics flared as I snarled. "Is THAT supposed to be our new security assistant?"

"I guess so. He's been with Kup all day." Springer folded his arms and looked as displeased as I felt.

"Sixshot," I repeated. "You gotta be kidding." As if cued, the gargoyle's jet mode descended into the courtyard. He shifted to wolf mode, scattered CDA posters, bent signs and broke tree branches. Two grade-school girls screamed under the ex-con's shadow. Sixshot unfolded his bulk into robot mode and closed on them. I bolted, shifted to vehicle mode and rammed straight for the intruder. From the courtyard's other side, Magnus tackled Sixshot to keep him from crushing the girls. Sixshot struggled under Magnus until I caught up and piled on. The ex-con threw us off; first me then Magnus. But I scampered up and bulldozed him feet-first. I locked my legs tightly around his neck and sat on his chest. The half-second Six started to recover, I flipped him over and locked my arm around his neck in the best choke hold I ever made.

Bending over I spoke calmly: "listen up, Twinkle Toes. This is _my_ city. I am the grand poobah, the top dog. My yard, my rules. I will NOT tolerate reckless transformation on **any** level at **any** time. Endanger anyone's life and I will personally reassign you as a toilet plunger for a motel chain. Can you remember that? No? Lemme try a remix: Rodimus Prime: Boss. You: Peon." I let him go with a jerk and headed back to Op and Springer. "Magnus," I said, "Translate."

"If you ever try anything even similar like that again, we will kick your aft."

As I returned to Springer and Optimus, the Old Goat-I mean His Trionness-crossed my path shadowed by Arcee. Trion's glare shot past me to his pet prick. "What's going on?"

Arcee blew me a surreptitious kiss and glided her hands over her hips suggestively. I smiled at her... daddy. "Nothing," I said simply. "Just putting a leash on your bulldog, that's all."

Trion feigned ignorance. "I thought we went through this-"

I drilled my optics into him: "Don't start, all right? If you have a problem, take it up with Sixshit who thought it funny to scare two little girls out of their mind. Excuse me. I'm going to find a seat."

I stomped off, signaling to Op that I had enough. Springer rushed to keep my pace. "Wow, Roddi, if Trion's optics were weapons, you'd be a tea strainer by now."

We descended to the auditorium's first floor. Trion always wanted the upper balcony but I liked shows close up so I'd not have to listen to his critiques every five minutes. I previously requested reserved seats for me and Op, figuring Uncle Trion arranged his own seating. I'm sure he'll whine about my sneaky arrangement later. I paused the half-second Op, Springer and I closed the private entrance. Reporters showered Trion with camera flashes. I privately rejoiced escaping the indignity of celebrityship.

"Well," I drew a breath, "At least we can watch this show in peace. I'm usually sandwiched between Trion and Arcee or Trion and Kup." I turned to Op. "Sit next to me, okay?"

We emerged into the auditorium expanse. I loved the place and saw my first rock concert here with Metallica. Jazz and Grapple rigged the place with all the best equipment. Blaster booked other things, too, like Cats, Les Meserables and a special production of The Wall. Believe it or not, Optimus watched them four years before his death. Op might be tight-lipped, but he's also open-minded.

Just as we three about took our seats, a familiar voice rang clear across the growing crowd. I smiled because looking like I felt could put me in the wrong hot seat.

Springer said it for me, anyway. "Can't get away with anything, Rodimus."

_"There you are_, Roddi!" Nope. Not when the Wrong Hot Seat came to me. Arcee glided down the isle in mincing steps that made me wince. I could not afford a public spectacle with Magnus' girl.

Too late.

Arcee landed. With one and a half movements, she opened the private entrance door, dragged me in and blocked the door with a devilish grin. "Alone at last," her voice cued to drag me under the wiles of her lust.

Only a liar proclaimed immunity to her pulchritude. Her optics fixed on me, an obsession both creepy and alluring. How could anyone be both annoying and attractive? Either way, I know where I'd like to put my hands.

Stay smart, I told myself. She's not worth the trouble. I grinned, though it was disingenuous. "Where's Daddy, Arcee? Aren't you supposed to be with Magnus?"

She took a step with a face that resembled a stalking tiger. "They're talking boring business stuff. Not like you, Roddi-"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure to be next, then."

"How about you and me and fifteen minutes before curtain?"

"How about not and pretend we're not interested?"

In one bound she wrapped me in arms and legs like a Xenomorph face hugger. I slammed against the wall and turned my head to keep her lips from mine. "You know, this is assault-" she turned my head and plunged her lips over mine, her knee between my legs. I tried to pry her off while the mad femme poured electrical currents down my chest. I managed to push her off and Arcee caught her balance. She laughed and twirled once.

"Oh, Roddi," she sang, "you are just delicious!"

"And you're dangerous." I growled.

"Yes, but you love it."

"Arcee, just stop, okay? I don't have time for this and you're going to get me into serious trouble. I don't exactly appreciate your advances."

That same face that read lust a moment ago frosted with a scowl. "I'm in love with you, Rodimus-"

"Oh, Primus," I swore. "Weren't you and Magnus in a fight earlier today? You need to go make it up to him."

"We've already made up. And why do you treat me like I'm some sort of disease?"

"Cuz you're in a relationship with Ultra Magnus, that's why! Do you need me to break it down into single-syllable words or shall I make a picture book for you? Look, Arcee, even if I were interested in a girl-any girl, I just don't have the time! And-and I really have to go." I knew it would look suspicious if we came into the auditorium through the same door so I left out the private entrance and wound around the back through the stage entrance and hopped off the platform, hoping spectators assumed I was just visiting the actors. Good thing too, cuz Mags and Trion found Op and Springer and took seats; Springer next to Op who made sure my seat next to him was still mine and then Magnus next to Alpha Trion.

Yay! I thought, Magnus and Uncle Trion get to chat while I sat in peace next to Op.

But when I took my seat, I realized the chair beside me was reserved for Arcee.

I just can't win.

I was about to ask Op to switch so the 'Rodimus sandwich' sat between two quiet people. But Arcee joined us and she and Mags kissed while her hand wormed its way toward me. I squirmed and she giggled.

Op handed me a show program and shot an optic in the femme's direction. [_Should have brought your invisibility cloak, Rodimus_] he said over a private internal comlink. I took great interest in the pamphlet he handed me. "Oh, look!" I said out loud. "Uh, uh, Thespius is doing-doing, uh," I flipped the cover over- "Nemesis_-Nemesis_?" I gave Op a disconcerted expression. I wanted to kick myself for not choosing earlier.

He took a moment to read me. "At least it's not the _Poseidon Adventure_, Rodimus. Or _Half Moon Ten, Wizard of Oz _or that ridiculous one you made me suffer through: _Two Doors Down_."

Now relaxed, I smiled. "I should book us into _Swan Lake_, Op. Or worse for you, still, _Cracker Box_."

He leaned over to mutter in my audio: "over my wrecked carcass, Rodimus." Then privately, Op added, [_I see she ruffled your feathers.]_

My optics darkened, though I did not look at him. [_She won't leave me alone and Magnus will be furious if he finds out._]

The lights died. The assembly fell silent and the stage lights shot on. A well-built mech in colorful costume, a holographic mask and glittering trim took the front stage.

A gong rang across the silent room. It reverberated in my chest. A second dong resounded. A third. The mech's voice came cold, ineffluent in speech like a chopping axe struggling with a new language. THE SECOND AGE OF CYBERTRON."

The character paddled back as other lights directed our attention to the multitude of character-actors. The gong rang deep, chilling. The characters swayed, danced and shifted their bodies with each sound, until they stood one atop another and formed a wall of robots representing the planetary population of Cybertron.

The main actor, Thespius, returned to the front. His voice changed, now direct, yet friendly. "Come! Come! Come! History has gone wrong!"

_Horribly wrong._ I flinched at the voice in my head. I turned to Op who sat unmoved. With a dare to peer left, I found Magnus and Arcee all snug. Beside them Trion and Kup quietly discussed the play while the 'robot wall' collapsed. The actors scattered to new locations. The stage now resembled a typical street in one of Cybertron's more ancient cities.

Another actor appeared, rumbling in a voice so deep it sounded like someone needed to pick his vocalizer off the floor. Maximus Thrax, or so I assumed. A terrible Decepticon leader. Two femmes joined him and sang a creepy chorus before he murdered them. His voice, slow, powerful, made Op squirm beside me.

The femmes sat up and joined his chorus about his power lust; Maximus Thrax declared himself god.

Darkness in the auditorium. Darkness on Cybertron. A grey-blue spotlight shot on. One robot after another dragged across the stage in chains. Their costumes depicted abuse and starvation.

Two crafty voices sang a capella as the line of 'slaves' passed left stage to right. Another spotlight filtered red and black faded on. Two 'Quintessons' floated just behind the slave line.

_En total this one has accomplished much._

_Their wills are broken._

_Their souls are damned._

_We need not lift a single hand._

_How to take back what was ours ... ours ... ours. _

_Now is the time to conquer the cowards._

The line of slaves split and left the stage while Maximus Thrax reappeared. His deep base intoned distrust. Crafty, baritone 'Quintessons' tried to sell him on a business deal.

Thrax: "_No deal._"

Quint 1: "_The best you'll ever have."_

Thrax: "_No deal."_

Quint 2: "_The best we can make._"

Thrax: _"I'm not interested."_

Quint 1:_ "Come! Come! Now is the hour!"_

Quint 2:_ "You could have so much power!"_

The Quints repeated their words over and over while Thrax sang _"No! No! No! WAIT! WAIT!"_ and again the auditorium fell silent. Thrax turned right, left, gazed up then back to the Quints: "_I'll rule you!_"

_"Negative!"_ They objected together.

That number went on, of course, until the three plotted against the Autobots.

It was not a good time for this, but I found myself wondering why Alpha Trion wanted to see this particular play rather than _Twilight Tempest_. I had seen it once before, years before I left Cybertron and joined the Autobots on Earth. But now I thought it somewhat suspicious that he should arrive at the only time _Nemesis_ played in Metroplex this year. I didn't think it had much to do with his ego. After all, his persona was played by Ventus Theta, one of the newer Autobots filed into Metroplex from a remote area off Cybertron.

That's not to say that Trion checked his ego when choosing to see the play. I'm sure that his ego had some hand in it. But something nagged me over Trion's modus operandi. His ulterior motive wasn't always apparent.

Heavy base guitar strummed a din so that some Autobots and most Humans covered their ears. I'd forgotten how loud and creepy the play sounded. Synthesizers followed as Quintessons infiltrated Cybertron through betrayal and underhanded politics. Whole cities lost power and death followed.

_Woe, woe, Cybertron the great!_

_Mourn your children at death's wake!_

_Ere the destruction, you praised Nemesis!_

_You praised Nemesis!_

_Was he your hero?_

_Did he descend the sky to save you?_

_Negative._

_Your hope is vanity._

_Your life lost its equanimity._

_Woe, woe, Cybertron,_

_the living ate the dead,_

_the dead multiplied._

_Screeeeeeeem... as they feeeeeed..._

_On YOU!_

Ventis Theta came to the forefront, portraying a desperate Alpha Trion who sought the Autobot population for the next Prime. He found nothing. Entire sections of the planet died off and nothing stopped it.

To my surprise, Optimus abruptly rose and quietly left. Trion leaned over Magnus. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged and shook my head. Taking the opportunity to leave, I slipped out the private entrance to an outside world now cast in the light of a new moon. Optimus leaned heavily against the banister, as though debating to jump two stories down.

I joined him but kept my mouth shut, uncertain. Optimus was downright scared. "Was the play a bad idea? I know musicals are hard to handle sometimes. I once tried to sit through Oklahoma; passed right out."

He faced me, struggling to maintain his legendary poise. "I remember the Quintessons."

Damn. I cringed. The musical was not such a good idea. I nodded toward Metroplex's western front. "We could do some basketball over it," I invited. Sometimes tossing the ball helped us both to relax.

His poise started to break and Optimus caught his breath and turned away. I laid a hand on his arm. "It's okay," I assured.

"It's not okay," he quietly countered. Optimus produced a small flat box from subspace and opened it. Inside lay the one thing he treasured most; the collage given him by Rusti upon her death. "It's not okay," he repeated. His hand closed over the box. "I'm not okay. None of this was supposed to take place. I-I'm not supposed to be here. And yet, I know I'm supposed to do something. I feel out of sync. I don't understand why I'm here. I'm not me anymore, Roddi. Maybe Trion is right."

Op and I go round this same debate every so often. I didn't want Trion to be right. I didn't want him to be right about anything, especially about Optimus. Besides, automatons don't cry. They don't fear. They don't laugh and they certainly don't love. I knew and firmly believed Optimus was so much more than a causal mistake made by the Matrix. I smeared a tear from his face plate and lined my lip components. "You know, this is gonna sound really weird, okay? Bracing for impact?" I waited until he cleared his head enough to pay attention. "Sometimes people are there for no other reason than for someone else. And maybe that's what you're here for; to remind me at the end of the day I have someone to care for-I mean, yeah, I got all the Autobots and such, but it's not the same. You help me keep my perspective and that's... that's a pretty tall order."

He turned away, wordless, maybe ashamed. Op and I both know he would never be able to regain his status as Autobot leader; he was permanently disabled. But I didn't care. He was here for me. Optimus was the closest thing I'd ever have to a family.

It's sheer irony the Quintessons brought him here to kill us; instead he became a gift. "C'mon, Op," I egged. "Let's go watch some bad TV."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

TIC TACK TOE

"GOOD MORNING, OPTIMUS. THERE ARE THIRTY-EIGHT MESSAGES WAITING FOR RODIMUS PRIME. ONE HUNDRED AND NINE ARE ADVERTISEMENTS AND ONE IS FROM THE PRIME MINISTER OF GREENLAND."

As Metroplex greeted him, Optimus settled at his chair with a cup of hot oil and minerals. He swivelled to face the majestic Cascade mountain range canopied by a silver-blue sky. It took three days to shed uneasy feelings about the Nemesis musical. The hours spent watching bad TV helped some. But the Quintessons, their faces and voices haunted him.

A sense of urgency nagged the city director. Optimus could not point to what bothered him. A distant tugging told him there was something he needed to do. But the former Autobot leader constantly failed to drag it to the surface. It was important, _very_ important. More important, in fact, than remembering Rusti.

He missed her laughter, her little voice. Optimus ached in her absence.

OPTIMUS PRIME? Metroplex chimed.

Optimus shook his head. _Do not call me that_, he thought. "Yes, Metroplex. Eliminate all advertisements except construction, science and raw materials. Send them proper request forms to be submitted via email. Channel the message from Prime Minister Orkavom straight to Rodimus' desk. Let me hear the rest."

FIRST MESSAGE: _"Hi, I'm Ronnie Doich from the law offices of Buck and Statford. We've contacted you before regarding the hit-and-run incident with Autobot Blurr. We received your request for damages and expenses to Mrs. Morrison's chickens and the traumatized rare African Pine tree. Now, Mrs. Morrison said she is willing to forego reparation for the white driveway gravel. So_ _you'll not be charged the twenty-five hundred to have the rocks turned and placed in their original order. But she said the damage done to the chickens will cost fifty thousand because they all require therapy. The tree will cost two million because it will need special music therapy, aspirin and prayers made by Oriental specialists twice a week. So give us a call and let us know when you'd like to start a payment program. Thank you and good-bye._"

Optimus did not move except to sip his 'breakfast'. Unfortunately for the law offices of Buck and Statford, Rodimus was away on other business, not to return for several days.

"_Hi, this is Miz Bucchanon from Umpqua Middle school, grade three. We'd like to request a tour ..._"

Four times a month, once a week, Roddi disappeared for a special meeting.

"_Hi, this is John Cappla from Douglas County Department of Reclamation. We need to schedule an appointment to take water samples of Autobot River at Metroplex. Please call..._"

Two of those meetings lasted only a single day. Optimus suspected the other two meetings entailed extra-planetary travel.

"_My name is Bob DeLong from Grants Pass Municipal Utilities. We'd like to discuss purchasing two hundred and four solar panels for a number of apartment complexes..._"

Optimus considered Roddi's private meetings more his days off. So even if Optimus knew where Rodimus disappeared to and with whom, he'd still tell no one.

"_Hi there, Rodimus Prime. This is Deborah Brooks With Oregon State Parks and Recreation, calling to remind you it's nearly time to set up negotiations for public access to the property around Metroplex. We anticipate a strong turn out this summer based alone on the number of applications for motel and boat reservations. Please call me back at 555-1420 Extension 08720. I think we can include donations to the Angel's Wing hospital. You can also reach my cell at..._"

Optimus momentarily considered taking a day or two off himself, but he did not know what to do with his time or where to go.

The Matrix considered oceanic exploration a good option. _We were there once, long ago._

_"Hi there, Rodimus. This is Brandi Freesian, owner of Sharp Turns Electric Grill. Listen, you know how much I enjoy the patronage of most of the Autobots; they are respectful and cause little to no trouble. But uh, day before yesterday we encountered some problems with a new robot. He was rambunctious, rude and damaged a large area of our parking lot and the west-side wall. If you could help us out, I'd greatly appreciate it. Our number here is ..."_

Optimus jotted down the number and made it a priority for the day. Chances were, Optimus already knew the 'new robot'. He finished off his morning brew and faced the desk. "Metroplex, submit messages regarding personnel exchanges to Ultra Magnus. Ask him to submit standard forms from his appointments and inform him I need to discuss disciplinary actions with Sixshot-"

APOLOGY. INCOMING CALL FROM PIERSUS.

The initial voice came from Piersus, governor of Kipper 19. "...there! What the devil?!" Optimus listened in as one person argued with another in a ramble of comments, sound effects and sputtering.

"This is City Director Optimus, Governor. Can I be of assistance?"

"Oh! Oh, hi there, yes. I was just discussing something with one of the directors here-yes. Optimus. I was due for a meeting with City Commander Ultra Magnus this morning. He did not show and I've not heard anything from him. I'm a very busy mech and I do not have time to doddle for someone who cannot take his job seriously."

"That is very much out of character for Ultra Magnus, Governor. If you'd like, I can contact him myself to see what the problem is."

"Well, it _is_ important. We need to send him specifications for the isotrype and we need that shipment of carbon he said he'd find for us."

Piersus babbled on as someone else tapped at Optimus' door. Wordlessly, Optimus permitted entry and he greeted Streetwise, Dateline and Parlous. They stepped in, each held a digipad in their hands.

"I'm sorry, Governor," Optimus interjected, "there's another matter I must attend at the moment. I will find out what happened. City Director out." Optimus stood, palms on his desktop. "Yes?" he asked, recognizing only Streetwise.

"Sorry for interrupting the call, Optimus," Streetwise stole a step forward; "We were supposed to meet with Ultra Magnus an hour ago and he's not answering his door. We were wondering if you'd go over our reports so we can get back on the street."

The comline chimed again. "City Director," Optimus automatically answered.

"Hi, Optimus. This is Flyby. Ultra Magnus has not shown up this morning. We called his secretary and she said he's not in his office, has not called or informed her whether or not he was taking the day off. We were wondering if Rodimus planned to perform drills today."

"Rodimus is in a meeting all day, Flyby. I will call Kup to look into it. City Director out."

Optimus returned his attention to the three Autobots standing at the front of his office, looking more like lost children than Autobot staff officers. "Yes," he said, taking his seat. "I will look at your reports. In exchange, I'd like you to investigate an incident reported from Sharp Turns Electric Grill. Seems there was trouble day before yesterday. I want a full investigation, even if you have to scrape everyone's shoes."

Streetwise nodded. "Happy to do so, Sir." He and his companions handed Optimus their digipads as Optimus scrawled into a pad of his own on the desk.

"What do you need me to do with these?" Optimus asked, scanning through Street's pad first.

"Oh, Ultra Magnus just looks for inconsistencies, road conditions, who checked us into the gates and people we've encountered."

Optimus skipped his gaze from the pads to Streetwise. "Isn't that Kup's job? Why is Ultra Magnus looking at patrol reports?"

Streetwise hesitated, "Rodimus is under the impression we have an intruder in the city." the Protectobot fidgeted under Optimus' steady scrutiny. But the city director said nothing and continued to scan the pads. He marked frequent visits from television news crews, suppliers from Central City, visitors with one-day visas and business owners. The only Autobots recorded were scouts who came and left at intervals corresponding with reports Rodimus sent to Kup on a regular basis.

"Everything appears in order, Streetwise." Optimus confirmed.

Relieved, the three before him relaxed their stance. Streetwise smiled. "Could you sign it, Sir? Ultra Magnus will want proof that you've been through them."

Optimus obliged, laying his index finger at the bottom of the report and imprinting an electronic signature. He did the same for the other pads and handed all three back to Streetwise. "Please submit a copy of your report to me when you report it to Kup, Streetwise."

"Yes, Sir. Er, you mean from the Electric Grill?"

"Yes-"

Another 'phone call' interrupted the moment and Optimus waved the three good-bye. "City Director," he answered.

"Is Rodimus in?"

Optimus did not know who called. "No. He is in a meeting-"

"And when will he be back? This is preposterous! Does ANYONE at Metroplex actually work? I've been trying to get a hold of Ultra Magnus and now Rodimus is-"

"Can _I_ help you with something?"

"No. You cannot. I do not talk to zombie-freaks! Just tell Rodimus that Kong Kreet called and he needs to return the call when he gets back."

Click.

Optimus made a note and contacted Brandi Freesian by computer. No sooner did he send the letter than his office doors were forced apart and in stepped Sixshot. Optimus stood, hands where the Decepticon could see them. He stared the new security officer in the optic and waited for him to make a sudden move. "Ultra Magnus is indisposed today, Sixshot. You will have to report to Chief of Security Kup."

"Came to speak to Rodimus Prime."

"He is in a meeting."

"Don't care. I want to speak to him _now_."

"You can speak to me."

Sixshot snapped out his weapon and pumped the setting. "Do I _look_ like I want to talk to you?"

"Put it away," Optimus kept his voice level. "Ten. Nine. Eight-"

"You think I'm afraid of you?! Hahahaha!!! you're just a shell! I'll RAM right through you and dangle your corroded carcass on a pole like a tattered flag!"

"Five. Four. Three-"

"Bah! You're not worth the shot-or the time!"

"Two-"

"Fine! I'll be back later!"

Optimus waited until Sixshot left the hallway before retaking his chair. The Matrix simmered with ire. "Metroplex, contact Ultra Magnus."

APOLOGY. ULTRA MAGNUS ORDERED ALL CALLS CANCELED.

"I don't care. Do it." The city director waited. By now Rodimus would be chewing on his desk in anger. It was a good thing he was not here to see this behavior from his city commander.

"Fucking Primus on sludge! Who the smelt is calling!" Magnus spit out three other words Optimus had not heard before.

Optimus kept his calm: "The city director, Ultra Magnus. You did not give me a twenty-four hour notice that you were taking the day off."

"Yeah, well, I am now."

"I need you to take care of your appointments-"

"I'm BUSY!"

"Magnus, I cannot do your job and mine _and_ Rodimus'. You will simply have to come to work."

Optimus heard Arcee's voice in the background, "Give me that communicator! Optimus, quit being a damned spur and suck it up!"

Click.

Optimus sat there, partly confused, partly unaffected. How could that _possibly_ be the same Ultra Magnus he spoke with yesterday? Did Arcee really affect him that much? How?

Springer stepped between the damaged doors unannounced and delivered two digipads. "Hey!" he greeted with a sunny smile. "Uh, what happened to your doors? And uh, the Rod-man not in today?"

Optimus struggled to decode Springer's reference. The air commander's face gleamed but Optimus read only his body shape. "No, Springer. Rodimus had to attend a meeting."

"That's good." Springer approved. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward the doors. "What happened?"

"Sixshot."

"Ah. Well, I'm here to give you a heads-up. The _Grand Poohbah _is sniffing around for Roddi. He didn't say why."

"Sniffing?" Optimus envisioned Trion down on hands and knees, smelling the ground.

"Yeah. I think Alpha Trion is looking for a reason to get on Roddi's case. You'll not saying anything to him about Prime if he comes in here, will you?" Optimus only shook his head. "Good!" the Wrecker beamed with another grin. "Trion hates it when you get tight-lipped. I gotta go. Take care!"

Springer departed and another Autobot entered. Optimus wondered if he'd get anything done today.

"Ex-excuse me, Optimus Prime." The timid voice did not register. The body shape invoked no memories. Optimus did not remotely recognize the robot. The Matrix did not know either.

Optimus stared, studying the unfamiliar shape while the Matrix evaluated the aura, the life force patterns and the spark. Not an Autobot; not a Decepticon.

"Yes, Alpha Trion wanted me to-to-um, submit this yesterday? B-but I got caught up in other things. Am I in trouble?"

How innocent the stranger sounded. Scared, deceitful. Optimus took the digipad from the alien robot's hands. He should know this person and did not. Optimus' optics darkened. He-it-called him Prime.

_Be careful._

Optimus examined the content and caught an opportunity. "Your name is not on here," he said with a lowered, slightly displeased tone. "How do you spell it again?"

"Modulus-with a U-S, Optimus Prime."

"Do not call me 'Prime." Optimus corrected. "And you have pre-entered your time of submission here, Modulus." He picked out another tablet and ordered security to keep an eye on 'Modulus'. "Don't let it happen again."

"Oh, apologies, Sir. Many. Will there be anything else... Sir?"

Optimus shook his head and when Modulus left, Trion came to the door. Optimus resigned himself to losing a day of work. He did not see Trion and Modulus make optical contact. They said nothing as they passed.

Trion approached the desk with a polite smile. "Morning, Optimus. I noticed Rodimus is nowhere to be found and he is not answering calls." Trion's businesses-like voice came as emotionless as Optimus viewed him. The elder scowled, displeased.

"He is in a meeting today."

"Oh?" Trion picked up a digipad and rifled though it. "Did he say with whom?"

"No."

"Where?"

"No."

"All day?"

"Yes."

Trion dumped the pad on the desk. "And I suppose you wouldn't have a clue?"

"No, Alpha Trion. I do not."

Trion fingered the electric tablet, pushing it one way then another. His voice chilled."You'd probably not tell me even if you did know."

Optimus ignored the subtle sulk. "Only if Rodimus specified permission."

Trion sighed. "Don't you ever worry about him, Optimus?"

Optimus' stare lingered in confusion. "What am I supposed to worry about?"

Trion scoffed. "Never mind. You'll not get it."

"You say 'worry'," Optimus insisted. "But what you mean is fear. I am unclear if you mean that I should be afraid _for_ him, or _of_ him." Now Optimus caught Trion's attention and the Autobot elder stood straight.

"How right you are." The Elder paused, his optics fixed on Optimus. "Let me see: you've been with us now for what? Two Earth years, has it been?"

"Four years, eight months and sixteen days-"

"Yes. Thank you. So how well do you think you know our esteemed Rodimus Prime?"

"Better than I know you," Optimus answered evenly.

"Hmm hmm. He's been the Prime for eighty some-odd years. Made fabulous progress in relations between Earth, Cybertron and other worlds, has he not?"

"Yes."

"And he's certainly been good to you. But he has something of a mysterious side to him, don't you think?"

Optimus turned puzzled. "I am not sure what you mean. Unless you mean there are things he doesn't like to talk about."

"Well, more than that, Optimus." Trion's optics drifted. He pinched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Roddi has his business, I suppose. But I can't help but question his secrecy."

Optimus stared. Stoic. Trion's mood appeared light rather than the customary hostility he received from the Autobot elder. "I'm sorry, Alpha Trion," Optimus said at length, "I've missed your point."

"Have you?" Trion removed himself from the desk and rounded Optimus' chair. He cast his optics out the wall of windows to the distant mountains. "Tell me, Optimus, what do you know of the legend of Nemesis?"

Optimus' optics narrowed in suspicion. "Thousands of Autobots died under his adminis-"

"Millions, Optimus," Trion abruptly corrected. "And often more than once. It was said that the darkness that indwelt Nemesis outstretched his hand and devoured the life force of all Autobots, great and unimportant alike and thereafter, Nemesis drained Cybertron of her power. It was a time when our world nearly became a lifeless husk. Truly one of the most terrifying times in our history. I was there, of course. I saw it happen."

Why the history lesson? Optimus knew of Nemesis. Every Matrix bearer knew of Nemesis. He watched the Autobot elder turn from the window, a sad smile crossed Trion's lip components.

He gazed upon Optimus as one would a child. "It's because of Nemesis that I try so hard to be a guiding light to all our Autobot leaders. Maybe you recall, somehow, I tried to help you now and again. Do you remember anything like that, Optimus?"

Optimus struggled to access memories long since damaged or erased. There! One memory, albeit partial. "I recall you demanded the rebuilding of Crystal City, Alpha Trion. But there weren't enough resources to be found."

"Ah, yes. It seems we are a people doomed to exist in tragedy and disaster."

Trion shook his head. Optimus suspected Trion kept secrets about Crystal City; secrets he'd take with him to oblivion.

"Optimus," Trion's uncommonly light tone filled the office, "You'll let Roddi know I was here to look in on him, won't you?"

"Certainly."

Trion smiled, pleased and sad. "That's good. I'd hate to see him feel like he's alone, you know. "Well, I best be going. I'm sure you're busy too." He took three steps before glancing back, one more thing: "Optimus... I really hope Rodimus is, you know, alright. Because it's awful eerie."

Optimus studied the old Autobot, unsure how to interpret Trion's attitude. "What you mean, Trion? What do you find eerie?"

"Well... it's just that, you see, in history, they don't say much about Nemesis. But I happen to know that he reanimated a friend of his. His friend died during a terrible Decepticon raid. The Nemesis, well, he was distraught. So he reanimated his friend to be his personal bodyguard. The poor soul just wasn't quite right. And, and I'm hoping Roddi hasn't made the same mistake. Keep an optic on him, Optimus. I'll call later."

Trion departed. Optimus leaned back in his chair and thought it carefully over.

**

I always make sure to warn Op and Magnus the day before I go to a special meeting. I don't care if the world blows up. The rule is DND-Do Not Disturb. Which is why I cannot be found anywhere in Metroplex. I think Op guesses the meetings are just my days off and he respects that. The truth is, I don't get days off. But the meetings are not altogether unpleasant. Let me make it clear, however, that I do nothing wrong-'naughty' or otherwise-at these meetings. No matter what Springer likes to purport.

And the meetings are not _entirely_ super-secret; just _mostly_ super-secret.

It took the better part of fifty years to tame the Decepticons. My main contact has always been Cyclonus who considered defection at one point. We held several private conversations. I often insulted him to see if he was honest or not. And yes, I apologized like a good Prime. Imagine my surprise when Cyclonus, who's way more serious than Op, smiled. He told me in my place he would have done the same thing.

Of course, Cyc's defection never happened. Instead, he and I conjured a plan that even then-Decepticon leader Galvatron could not resist.

Of course, the Quintessons tried to 'put enmity' between us and the Cons. And for sixteen years, I woke each day with the fear of war. I heard zippo from Cyclonus.

Then the Hate Plague smacked us upside the head. Infected Decepticons dropped to Earth for a visit, headed by Galvatron. I used the Matrix to clean things up. Galvatron got a dose of its medicine and now the Decepticons work to build themselves a new and respectable society.

Very cool in my book.

It's amazing what a little communication can do.

I traveled to Trapezius twice a month so that Cyclonus was not the one making all the travel plans himself. Trapezius, an asteroid, orbited Ganymede. Rich in unusual chemicals and elements, Trapezius offered wealth wrapped in a challenging environment. The Decepticons thrived quite well there, harnessing power from the EM fields and radiation emanating from the Jovian satellite. The Decepticons also keep busy regulating the trade routes between Earth and Star Gate 09-A.

The CDA didn't like the idea of Decepticons acting like system security. But Cyclonus assured me his 'boys' enjoyed it and the duty kept them busy and out of trouble. It gave them a sense of importance. And I prefer that to treating them like criminals.

The CDA and I fought over it until I found out the administration hired a number of Decepticons as personal body guards and 'grounds keepers'. Sixshot, Rapeedus and Scrapper were all given access to parts to Cybertroid City that I wouldn't give even to Springer. Naturally, that meant I won and on occasion, I'll use that card to rub their noses in their own bad decisions.

I met up with Cyclonus behind the local Seventh-Day Adventist Church on Lincoln and Timbrook Lane at seven A.M. He's always annoyingly punctual. He says I'm always annoyingly late. But today we arrived at the same time.

Cyclonus passed under the street light. His optics glowed an eerie pale red in the frosty morning air. "This is new and different for you, Rodimus Prime, is it not?"

"I wanted to get out before Uncle Trion started sniffing around for me." I handed him a digipad.

"What is this?"

"It's something Op found during one of Cosmos' fly-byes on Mars. You said last time you guys spotted suspicious activity around Mars."

"Yes."

"So I thought I'd add this to your collection, let you play with it, see if they can find anything else."

Cyc took the digipad with no arguments. He glanced at it then sized me up with concentrating optics. Cyclonus was way too much like Magnus. But held himself differently. I could not resist respecting the Decepticon leader.

"How is Optimus Prime?"

I could not help smiling. Of all people, Cyclonus still considered Optimus a Prime. Even I did not call him 'Prime'. Not because I did not consider him one; I would always honor him as Chosen of the Matrix. But he was _Op_ to me. "He's doing pretty good."

"You used a qualifier, Rodimus." Cyclonus grunted. "Optimus is doing 'pretty good' compared to what?"

Nothing escaped Cyclonus' notice. I found it a source of constant amusement. "Compared to how he's been the last several months." Cyclonus nodded, knowing the story regarding Rusti Witwicky.

"Perhaps, Rodimus, you'd consider visiting Trapezius and bring Optimus with you. It might do him good to see something different. Besides, he has admirers among my staff. By the way, Rodimus," Cyclonus' voice dipped from serious to grim, "intel informs us there may be an intruder in Metroplex."

"You mean something other than Sixshot?"

"It's worse than Sixshot. We suspect you have a shape shifter who may be a Quintesson spy."

I stared, dumbfounded.

**

Arcee greeted me upon my arrival late that night. She sat at the gate acting as if the security counter were more a lounge chair by a swimming pool. Had she been anyone else, I would make her polish the entrance way six weeks for acting inappropriately.

She knew this too and grinned at me as I transformed. "Roddi!" she said in a playful growl. "You've finally decided to return." she proffered her chest in an all-too suggestive manner and I fought a childish grin. I wish Magnus would keep a leash on her.

"What's a matter?" I asked, pretending not to notice her lithe little form. "Is Daddy missing me?"

She twisted round as I checked in with security and picked up their log pads. "You should have more respect for him, Rodimus, he is, after all, a living legend."

"And a legendary pain in my aft." I muttered.

"Rodimus," Arcee's little voice raised to a plaintive call, "why do I get the notion you intentionally ignore me?"

I bowed my head. Then remembering Cyc's warning about a spy, I quickly ordered all reports and security back logs as far as eight months and had them sent to my desk before turning to the Autobot femme. "My dear Arcee, you are doing everything you can to get me into trouble with Magnus. Lucky for me, I know this already. I'm going to retell you the same thing I said a long time ago: I will fight Mags over policy. I will fight him over a personnel problem and I will fight him over a ball game. But I absolutely will not fight him over a girl. Especially if she's Uncle Trion's daughter. Got me? So, knock it off and grow up."

Off I stomped, hoping to find Optimus up and slaving away at his desk so I could use the excuse that he and I would be aft-deep in work.

Arcee screamed her frustration as I transformed. She wasn't worth any fight between me and Mags. Maybe because in some strange, underlying way, Arcee seemed slimy. And I don't know if it was because she tries to seduce me time after time, or if it's because she was related to His Trionness.

It came as such a relief to find Op still awake. I slipped through his office doors with a cup of energon for the each of us. I slapped on the dumbest grin I could invoke.

"Hey, Op!" I greeted. He looked up, his expression a little worn. He cleared a space for me. I handed him his bit of energon and planted my aft on his desk. "How'd it all went? Did Alphie come by and ask for me?"

"His day is never complete without you, Rodimus." Op's voice remained quite but I caught his dry humor and sipped the energon. "You know," he added, "it would be nice if once in a while he would be as considerate of you as he expects you to be of him."

"Yeah, well, at least I'm able to disappoint him once in a while-keeps the old goat guessing. Anything catastrophic happen while I was out?"

"Twenty-six calls. Three from Arcee. Five complaints about Sixshot."

I almost swallowed air. "What? What about Sixshit? Who complained?"

"Day before yesterday he wrecked havoc on a Human-owned tavern. Today he started several fights; one with Springer, another with Chemicus and Hotshot. Springer is currently in repair bay after a post-game fight at the football stadium. I submitted a citation to Sixshot and sent a copy of it-and the medical bills to Cybertron."

"WHAT?! Primus, Op!" I about popped a gasket from laughing so hard. "That's GREAT! And here, Alphlfa-T said you had no imagination!"

Op smiled. "Enjoy it now, Roddi. I can assure you someone will call to complain."

"It's worth it. I intend to make your decision stick-and I'll make sure Mags knows to do the same thing in the future."

Optimus laced his fingers, laid his arms on the desk and leaned over. "Yes. About Ultra Magnus..."

**THE CALL** came in at a frosty four A.M. Not so nice but not unexpected. As they say, the game is afoot. And per my usual obnoxious self, I let them eat static the first time around. The communique bleeped for my attention until Metroplex himself stirred.

IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT, RODIMUS PRIME?

"Hmm?"

YOU HAVE A COMMUNICATION FROM CYBERTRON.

I turned in bed and stared out the window overlooking the courtyard to Central Command. According to some opinions, it's the loveliest spot in the city. And I guess it's all right if you like water fountains, crystal statues of former Autobot leaders and CDA propaganda posters and flags in every corner. Geeze. I hope they NEVER erect a statue of me.

Wait a minute, double take here. Was that... was-NO. Was that Arcee with Twin Twist? Could NOT be! My optics glued to the scene of two people under soft lighting, laughing and talking as if they'd known each other forever.

The comline beeped while I strained to make sure I did not mistake the view. Arcee smiled coyly and laid a hand on his shoulder and -ewwe! He kissed her! She guided him to dip her close to the ground. She arched her back, lifted a leg-I could not watch.

Thirty-five comm beeps called before I crawled off the berth, baffled. I stumbled across a floor strewn with digipads, thank-you gifts, my music hobby and data crystals. I got a cup of strong energon first then clicked the link from my televisor.

The face of administration member Contrara flickered on the screen. Not the most beautiful sight this time of day. "Oh! Hey!" I greeted, acting surprised. "Nice to see you at four A.M."

"I've been trying to contact you for the last half hour!"

I hated her voice. "Oh? Huh. Well, you know, I _do_ take down time every twenty hours."

"This is important, Rodimus Prime."

The administration members were so stiff, they made corpses look like rubber bands. If I had Human eyes, they'd be rolling. "Okay. So what's the catastrophe? The Abominable Michelin Tire Man? B.F. Goodwrench? Say, I hear he's due for parole soon-"

"Someone _billed_ us for an incident two days ago."

I could not resist the smile. "Really? Do you plan to frame it? Use it to check your oil levels?"

"This is serious, Rodimus! Sixshot was sent as an assistant and you _people_ have rejected his aid at every level-"

"We _people_ aren't a collection of little kids who need potty training, Contrara. Sixshot attacked two of _my_ officers. I wish I could lay the claim to the idea of billing you people for damages, but all I can do is take responsibility for it. Now, we did not _ask_ for his help. And he needs to adhere to _our_ rules."

"Well, this-" and she waved the pad on which the bill was stamped, "Is considered insubordination."

"Bullshit," I snarled. "It's a report card from Optimus. Sixshit has flunked the course in common courtesy. **YOU** sent him here. **YOU** can pay for his recklessness. **YOU** can call him **OFF**!"

She seethed. "We'll discuss this later, Rodimus when you think you can be more civil." Contrara cut transmission.

Civil my aft, I thought. She said 'civil'; she meant 'compliant'. I refused to take her seriously. I welcomed a battle of wits; I came well equipped for it.

**

I plowed back into shut down after the little pep talk with the Wicked Witch of Cybertron. Nine A.M. called me out of sleep because I had other things to do. I knew it'd irritate Trion if I slept in, so I made sure I slept in late. After catching up all the mail Op screened for me, I trekked to my office, grabbed the uploaded security logs and headed to Optimus' office. I prefer to work with someone else rather than by myself, with or without music. And Op was always happy to have me work with him, even if we did not share assignments.

Uncle Trion's firm, authoritative (annoying) voice carried outside Op's office. I could not make out all what was said, but I suspected Trion grilled Op for his audacity. Not that Op couldn't handle his own against His Trionness, but it pissed me off that Trion felt so free to place his ol factory nodule where it did not belong. As far as I was concerned, Optimus was off limits; _I_ was his boss.

"...I am well aware of your bureaucratic friends and their strings," Op's leveled voice barely made it past the door. I stood there, arms crossed, eavesdropping like a good Prime.

Trion made his volley: "You tread a fine line between general nuisance and treason-"

"I thought the very same thing of you," Optimus returned, "especially regarding the power grid you authorized for construction in Aipys' South-Point district."

Trion, caught off guard, squeaked. "What?"

I grinned. Go, Optimus!

"You heard me." Optimus grumbled. "I found out a few days ago. It's _not_ a power grid." The flat sound of a digipad slapped Op's desk. Optimus even had proof. "I have both tech specs and eyewitnesses. What are you up to, Trion?"

A endless pause stretched the seconds on a rack of concentration. Trion, crafty as a two-faced bureaucrat, chuckled-well, _cackled_ is a better word. "You are so right. It's no small wonder Rodimus put you where you are. I wish I were fortunate enough to have a right-hand bot as observant and thorough as you, Optimus."

"Cut the crap, Trion. I am neither amused nor impressed."

"Listen up, you eight-pixel neolithic program! You can sit there and be as arrogant and intolerably intrusive as you please. But there is _nothing_ you can attempt to change my plans or redirect my course of action. You are clear out of your league and you would be wise not to defy me."

Optimus' chair rolled against the picture windows behind him as he stood. His optics did not deter from Trion as he stood. His expression reflected nothing; not even the cool anger roused by political tactics. "Even if your intentions were to intimidate and manipulate me, they fall painfully shy of the power standing so close and so far from your reach, Alpha Trion. Words are your weapons and you wield them well. But ultimately, they are bullet casings; impressive outside but devoid of power inside."

I knew the sound of that voice. It was time to cut into the moment, if but to keep Op from damaging the office decor with Trion's remains. Retreating half way down the hall, I made enough noise to forewarn them of my approach. I buzzed the door.

"Enter!" Optimus sat down as I stepped in. Both mechs ignored my ever-charming, ignorant grin.

"Morning, Lords, Ladies-and Trion." I said using Trion's condescending tones he often used to greet Op. Op's expression lightened, Trion's darkened. I clapped my hands together. "Gosh, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Optimus cleverly hid his smile, but I caught it just the same. He knew I was eavesdropping. "Actually, Rodimus, I believe Alpha Trion originally stopped in to see you, since I am not one for a great deal of conversation."

I turned to the Old Goat and beamed expectancy and charm. I knew the pokie wanted to yell at me. But yelling was not Trion's usual modus operandi. Then it dawned on me what Op just said. I could not resist a glance back to my friend. He insulted Trion without saying it directly. He said 'I am not one for a great deal of conversation.' What he meant was "I have nothing _civilized_ left to say." I want to be just like him when I grow up.

See? Mind games.

Trion folded his golden arms and pierced me with dark optics. "Contrara informed me you were rude to her."

"What?" I feigned.

"She needed information and you made her wait-"

"Huh?" I asked sharply. "Rude? Rude? _I_ was rude? How about getting a phone call at four AM? _Some_ of us are allowed down time, Trion. I reserve the right to rest."

"Oh!" Trion pasted on falsified sympathy. "And the right to disappear as you see fit? No notes, no warnings? What if there had been an emergency?"

"I do have reliable, trustworthy staff, Trion. And I _am_ a Prime. I do not answer to you."

He sighed loudly, swung away. I pushed a button. He spun back with another verbally volley. "But I _worry_ over you, Rodimus," Trion oozed. "What if you had been abducted? Maybe fallen prey to a Quintesson trap? What then?"

"It's a risk, Trion, that's all a part of the role I play and I am not going to betray a confidence to satiate your curiosity so you can manipulate me."

Trion looked like a whipped puppy. "I can't believe you just said that," He used a small voice, his countenance reflected pain. "I _love_ you. I want to ensure your safety yet you slap me in the face time and again..." he shrugged. "I don't know how much more of this I can handle, Rodimus. I really don't. You haven't been Prime even a hundred years and you act like you know it all; as if you have enough experience to lead-you don't have the _experience_, Rodimus. The responsibility is so beyond your scope-"

Optimus spoke up, much to my relief. "The Matrix does not choose based on experience, Alpha Trion, but on qualifications. If experience were an issue-"

Trion softly swore. He turned away then back. "Optimus, would you not say that I've had far greater training than Rodimus? Wouldn't you say that I am better qualified a leader in some degree?"

Op's cold gaze slid through Alphalfa-T. "You're making an issue out of something that is not an issue, Alpha Trion."

I sure love him sometimes.

Trion struggled all so sweetly to control his rage. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Your experience and knowledge, no matter how potent and broad, is inconsequential to the Matrix. It knows more than you do. It chose Rodimus. It did not choose you. You will never be an Autobot leader and therefore, neither you nor the CDA have any claim to legitimate authority. You are to answer to Rodimus, not the other way around. If Roddi says to remove Sixshot, you need to remove Sixshot."

Dead silence.

I hate those moments because I can't tell what's going through Trion's head. I'm sure it's not something I'll be happy with. The anger left his face, but now he became less predictable. He smiled tightly as though forcing himself to a decision he did not like.

"You're right," he said to Op. "Heh, you're right, Optimus. I'm not chosen by the Matrix. I am only the oldest and most experienced of our entire society. And because of that, it may be that it's my duty to serve and protect our endearing Autobot leaders. They are, after all, the heart and center of our society-and have been since we became sapient."

I glanced at Optimus who stared at a digipad as if he weren't listening. Trion approached the desk again. "But I still have my personal reservations." He gazed me in the optic. "Where were you last night and yesterday?"

"In a meeting."

"So secret a meeting that you cannot say?"

"You don't need to know. Consider it... Primish business."

Trion's obvious disapproval deepened. "The same 'Primish' business you claimed several years ago when you decided to investigate my private life? The same that drove poor Elita One into solitude? The very same business that even drove her to suicide?"

"She DIDN'T commit suicide and don't you EVER mention that again!"

"One cannot help but admire the way you handle people, Rodimus. Elita couldn't go far enough away from you. And here you have Optimus under your control and my daughter, Arcee-you're all she talks about-"

"LIAR!" I hissed.

"Not according to her," he pressed. "Arcee said she _enjoyed_ it but didn't understand why you had to go behind Magnus' back-"

"Well," I snapped, "since we're trading stories, how about I talk about the one of Alpha Trion forcing Elita One to produce his offspring? How about _that_?" I did not hear Op quietly call me to quell the argument. "How I love to have asked dear Elita what it was like to be raped by someone she trusted-"

"Roddi." Op called again.

"Not just once," I pushed, "But forced to produce three children. How many more would you have made her give you, Trion? The all-powerful Alpha Trion who had to rape someone to have offspring!"

Trion struck me so hard I toppled over the desk and landed on the floor. Optimus sprung over his desk and kicked Trion, sending him across the room.

I rolled over, "Optimus! Don't shoot him! It'll make things worse!" I trembled as Optimus neared the elder, rifle in hand, set to kill. But Optimus listened to me. He stopped, rifle held tight.

"Get out of my office," he growled. I guessed Trion's experience told him not to cross Op in a mood. He gathered himself off the floor and slunk toward the door like a worm.


	5. Chapter 5

chapter 5

GRANDMA MODULUS

punching someone's lights out was not per Trion's usual conduct. Which is why I now sat with Op in Medbay sporting a nice gash along the right side of my head. I thought my booboo well earned for not wising up to His Trionness. It embarrassed me to admit I did not anticipate the strike.

Op and me waited while Perceptor labored over two damaged servos along my right side audio refractive reducer. I earned that wound when I hit Op's desk on the way to the floor. Speaking of whom, Optimus had not said a word the entire two hours we sat in the not-so-glorious room 129.

Of course, I had my own musings. I mulled over Cyclonus' warning about the shape shifter. The situation with Trion and his groupies grew worse each day. Trion also had the media licking his fingers. That worried me because anything he'd tell them became instant news and instant truth. Arcee called me just before Op dragged me to Medbay. She screamed and wailed and sputtered on about how Magnus was paying more attention to his receptionist, Tempra, than her.

I pissed Arcee off by telling her at least Magnus gives her attention. Then I 'hung up' and blocked her from communication.

I stared at Op and wished not for the first time he'd emerge from his present mental state. I know between the two of us, there'd be no end to mayhem, mischief and chaos. The damned administration would surrender out of nothing less than terror.

The Autobots required so much of myself, my time and energy. I walked a tightrope between playing president and military leader. Even with Magnus, Kup and Optimus handling much of the detail work, I swam in an ocean of unending problems.

Optimus also required a little extra attention. I once hired a nice old Autobot, a friend of Kup's, to keep an optic on Op and keep him preoccupied. But Optimus slumped into depression so badly he laid in recharge mode for days at a time. And I missed him being around me. There's a special connection between us. It's a necessity I can't put into words. I brought him back to Central Command and made him City Director. Alphalfa-T balked at the idea-which made it even better. And to his annoyance, Op proved totally capable of handling process work.

"Hey," I softly called. He looked to me like a lost child, uncertain and directionless. "What's in your head?"

He hesitated because he had to reprocess my play on words. I cringed inwardly. Hey, stupid, I told myself, he's not Blaster or Jazz.

To my delight, however, Optimus understood. "Trion," he stated simply.

"It really bothered you that he acted that way, didn't it? Kinda threw me off too, Op."

"I think he's afraid, Rodimus."

I drew back, surprised. "How so?"

He hesitated, searching words and phrases. "I think, Trion knows he's finite."

Inclined to laugh, I grinned carefully. "Op, we're all finite."

"No, I mean... " Optimus studied me carefully. "People like you and me. We're not quite so finite. It's like light. Light exists in more than one way. Light can be heat and radiation. It can be invisible like a laser and it can bend and split. You and I exist in more than one level of reality. The Matrix knows this. Our abilities stem from a greater source than simply the here and now. We are manifestations of something far more powerful. But Trion is not a part of that existence. He knows of it, he craves it. But he can never have it. He has done everything in his power to stay alive and find a way to broaden his existence beyond the norm. But he will never get there. Simply because he was never Chosen. And I sense desperation within him. Trion is very intelligent and understands trends. He sees something about you that threatens everything he is and has worked for. And it makes me afraid for you, Roddi."

I stared, speechless. "Uh. All that was in your head?"

Again he hesitated. "Yes."

I smiled lightly. "Op, when I grow up, I want to be as smart as you."

He calculated each word and measured it against meaning, voice, pitch and the posture of my body verses what he just said. "No, Roddi," he said simply. "You would not be as cute."

I thought my face would fall off. I didn't care what Perceptor said. Optimus possessed a strength of character that surpassed all his potential weaknesses.

Speaking of Professor 'Ceptor, it took all of ten minutes to reinstall the damaged servos. I gave him a semi-annoyed expression. "That's it? We waited forty minutes for a ten minute _battery_ job?"

Perceptor scanned my vitals. "The nature of your physic is not entirely akin to everyone else, Rodimus. I have to differentiate and recalibrate alternative, sometimes greater frequencies for you. You are, after all, a Prime."

I tossed a glance to Op then back to Mr. Professor. "Don't I get some sort of consolation prize for that, Perceptor?" He stopped scanning and stared, perplexed.

"Hah!" I nudged Op. "Never mind. It'd take too long to explain. Come on, Optimus. Let's go attend recess duty. You and I both need sunlight."

We toured the edges of Metroplex's city limits. From the outside, the fortress-city looked pretty simple. To the common visitor, there did not seem to be enough structure to call it a city. But Metroplex is way cooler than he looks. The city opens into a bustling hive of Autobot activity along the second level. The upper portion, which is the transformable robotic self, is only one quarter of the metropolis.

We rounded the basket ball court, the EDC district and then Optimus lagged behind when we approached Angel's Wing Children's Hospital. He transformed and stared across the street. I wanted to kick myself for steering him in this direction. I too transformed and joined him. We stood there as traffic came and left. Drivers occasionally waved but only I returned the gesture.

Ten minutes passed before Op headed off the walkway to transform. I caught his arm and motioned toward the sidewalk edge. "Hey, sit with me for a minute, okay? Just... just sit."

He reluctantly complied. I knew he wanted to run. He wanted to be rid of memories so sweet they wounded him. We sat and said nothing. I let him brood for several minutes before opening my mouth. "Okay, Op. It's way okay if you don't wanna talk. I get that. I also get that it hurts to think about the person-that one person-who made you feel more alive than any time you can remember since you were brought back. I know it hurts like hell to think that you'll not see her again. But I don't think it's right or fair for you to run away from that grief. All you're doing is walking around with a broken leg and denying that it's broke. It's okay to hurt and it's okay to feel sad. But suppressing all that only means turning yourself off to everything else."

He did not look at me. "It's all so final, Roddi. She's gone. You know, on occasion, I'll go through ancient reports and old logs and read about events that happened prior to my death and it's like reading about someone else's past. None of that is a part of me anymore. But Rusti was. Lately I thought how death comes in three's. I wondered whether or not you could be next."

Op had way too much going on in his head. I laid a hand on his shoulder, not knowing how to answer something so true and personal and, as he put it, so final. "Yeah,"I finally murmured. "The problem is that I can't leave cuz I don't have a babysitter for you yet. So really, I can't die.

He slightly shrugged. "There's Magnus."

"Mmm... well... yeah. But he's sorta stiff, Op. He doesn't get the whole 'bad TV'-thing. Although, there is Sameko. She's developed a liking for you."

"She does not live here, Rodimus."

I shrugged. "So, we just need to import her and get her a green card. Come on. Let's hit down town." I transformed but he paused.

"Are you sure you want to take this much time getting back, Rodimus? Trion might be looking for you."

"Hell, yeah!" I replied sternly. "It's too nice a day to listen to his hogswallup." Optimus agreed by shifting to truck mode. We headed to the glamorous (small and limited) 'downtown' area. From the upper side of Metroplex, we drove down the north-western underground road and connected to Underpass 103. Down Town stretched a measly three-square miles along the second level. A transparent titanium glass roof reinforced with a suspension force field (for security reasons) allowed sunlight to filter from the topside world. Initially most people worried the sun roof might be unsafe in case of earthquake or battle. But when it was found to survive the 2005 attack by Decepticons, opponents quickly looked for other issues to whine about; like the lack of trees around Autobot City.

A small, two-story mall squatted along the eastern side of Down Town.

Several special interest groups approached me decades ago with the idea of a full-fledged Human community residing at Metroplex. I had too many reservations to give it the okay. If Metroplex had to do battle, the last thing he needed to worry about was collapsing buildings, trapped people, ruptured sewer lines or valuables like museums, libraries, Synagogues or churches. Families entailed children, animals, organic food, a park system... Metroplex was not designed to pause and replant if he had to transform and kick keester.

I did, however, allow restaurants, motels and extended-stay quarters for EDC staff who had to remain due to business. With that in mind, they built 'barstool' outdoor restaurants complete with large screen TV's and a few entertainment centers.

Op and I approached one such 'barstool' café. He caught sight of the news as displayed on a giant view screen suspended above the open-air restaurant. He halted abruptly and I hung with him, obligated to listen.

_The Cybertronian Defense Administration announced today they are breaking ground on a new Mars development facility. Elder Spokesbot Alpha Trion, made the remarkable announcement in a press conference at Central City's historic Waterfront Park._

Trion's face beamed in ethereal light as though he were some demigod. _"My dear friends, we are on the brink of the most spectacular era since Cybertron's Golden Age; a time when Autobots, their friends and allies come together to build a society the likes of which Primus has never envisioned. The future is waiting for us on Mars. We invite everyone, anyone, willing to work hard to help us build this magnificent future. It is a dream we hope our dear Human friends will share with us. Employment centers will shortly open around the globe so that everyone from every country and nationality will get a chance to join and make a bright dream into an illustrious_ _future._"

They displayed a snapshot of Mars and I recalled the photo Op showed me a couple weeks ago. "_The Cybertronian Defense Administration confirmed a staggering number of people will be employed at the Mars facility. As many as a quarter million are expected to work under the mining contract._"

Trion's freshly buffed face appeared again. "_The CDA courteously invites the Autobot leadership on Earth to join us in the spirit of peace and financial security for Metroplex and Earth and in the exploration of the treasure houses hidden within Mars._"

My fuel lines burned and I almost searched for something to throw at the screen.

The news reporter passed the journalism torch to the woman in the studio. I grunted, caring only to move on to something less infuriating than Trion's public taunts aimed at me. I did just that, weaving between people as they came and went.

Op's voice trailed through milling voices around us. "I find it interesting, Rodimus, how he emphasized Human workers and said nothing about the Autobots."

"Don't worry, Op. I'm sure there's plenty of grunt work to go around." I paid no attention to the sports shop window depicting my image at the center of a dartboard.

"Yes, but Trion does not deal with generalities. If he says Humans, he does not mean Humans and Autobots. He _means_ Humans."

"What are you saying?" I stopped suddenly and received many 'sorry, sir's' when Autobots and EDC officers rounded me. "Wait. Don't say it here. Besides, I'm sure it's just a public ploy and there will be plenty of jobs for the Autobots, too."

Op remained skeptical. "Then why does he find it necessary to publicly insult you by entreating you to join him?"

I shrugged, pretending not to be concerned over the issue. Op was right. But I could do nothing about it at the time. "He's a politician," I answered casually. "They do stuff like that."

"But it sounds as though he's trying to say you do nothing."

"What's got you knotted up, Op?" He stared at me, disconcerted and I had to rephrase the question. "What are you worried about?"

"I do not wish him to be right, Rodimus. I do not wish him to be right about anything." Optimus sent his confused gaze elsewhere as though he did not want to discuss Uncle Trion.

Then I realized the confusion was not aimed at my statement, but at something behind me. Following his gaze, I spotted an Autobot arguing with Cricket whom I had not seen since Trion's arrival.

Optimus tilted his head further. "Who is that?"

I zoomed into the unfamiliar Autobot's features and could not match a name to the faceplate. "I dunno," I said, shaking my head. "Lemme go ask." But Optimus held me back.

"I know his name, Roddi. But I can't _discern_ him. I don't _know_ him." He met my optics and meant he did not know the strange Autobot the way a Prime should.

"Okay," I said carefully. "Uh, his name-"

"-is Modulus. I know. But he's not one of us."

I thought for half a minute. "You know, Op, I went through security logs with Mags a few days ago. I saw his name, but like you say, I don't know who he is."

Optimus stared at the unfamiliar Autobot as the imposter transformed and drove off. "Seems to me Rodimus, we have a problem."

"No," I countered, "we have two problems. Look."

Optimus turned left and we watched as Magnus and a seriously irate Arcee exchanged unheard words.

"Here we go again." Optimus muttered.

I sighed. "Well, shall I take Magnus, or you?" I cringed when Arcee pounded her fists against Magnus' chest.

"I think the intruder is more important, Rodimus."

"True. Okay. You track him down via assignments and e-trails and I'll play tag. Sound good?"

Before Optimus could reply, the grinding growls of Autobot engines vibrated through the air like miniature bombs. One Autobot sounded familiar. The other was not. As they raced, their engines boomed a cacophony, loud enough to damage sensitive receptors. Twin Twist shot down the road, a blue bullet of angry energy.

Sunstreaker followed, emitting profanities over six comm channels. Typical of Twin Twit's short temper, he spun about in mid-speed and mid-traffic. Those Autobots and automobiles he did not hit rammed into each other to avoid collision. Twin Twist skidded along the road, hand-sprung twice, landed with a partial twist then kicked Sunstreaker in auto mode as the Lambroghini cruised in full-throttle.

Sunstreaker barked unrepeatable words as he flew through the air. He transformed and landed less than gracefully. Whining about his paint job, newly dented and scratched, Sunstreaker charged Twin Twist.

I hated backyard brawling. With a running start, I leapt onto a utility truck and sprang from there to Twin Twist, kicking out one knee. I caught him off balance, grabbed him by the left arm and tossed him against a city buttress-pillar.

Turning to Sunstreaker, my optics flared hot. "Wanna explain why you two find it necessary to fight in the highway?"

"He was takin' pot shots at me and Sideswipe and grazed my lower bumper which now has to be refinished!"

Movement at two o'clock of our position got my attention as another Autobot leapt for Sunstreaker. The two tumbled over someone else in car mode; all arms and legs.

From the restaurant, Optimus watched the drama as Rodimus broke up the fight between Sunstreaker and Hydrate only to watch it recommence when Twin Twist reentered the group. Optimus paid particular attention to Twin Twist. The hot-headed Autobot Jumpstarter seemed too eager to start a fight.

Twin Twist paused just scant seconds while Rodimus yelled at Hydrate. Twist's optics met Optimus', staring as if measuring with his optics or weighing a decision. Rodimus yanked him into the circle of delinquents and lambasted him ugly.

I was mad enough to send Twin Twist flying into the next wall. But I refrained and gave him sewage duty instead. "Since you choose to be a pain in the aft, you can clean after several of them!" I know it was bad yelling at someone in public but now I did not care.

I confined Sunstreaker to quarters, put Hydrate on sidewalk scrub duty then returned to my quarters to cool off.

Twenty-six messages waited for me when I entered my comfy, chaotic quarters. A favorite hand-made picture stared at me the second I stepped in. A large bull's eye poster with a well worn center met my optics.

BANG HEAD HERE, it suggested.

I did just that.

Contrara:_ "Rodimus, I was hoping to get in touch with you today to discuss the bill which your city director sent us regarding Sixshot. I hope we can resolve this issue in a timely and civilized manner."_

BANG HEAD HERE.

Magnus' voice droned over the message board: "_Rodimus, Arcee says she feels really neglected and that our relationship is in danger. I'm taking the day off. Maybe tomorrow, too. Call me if there's an emergency._"

BANG HEAD HERE.

Trion, naturally chimed next. "_Rodimus, I've been trying to contact you all day. I am struggling to make things easier and better for you and Metroplex. But you insist on playing this game of hide and seek with me. It's extremely frustrating and really hurts my feelings that you can't seem to be there when I need you. I hope you're not sitting in your quarters, banging your head against the wall. I don't do things like that when I'm bored or frustrated. Neither does Magnus. It's unhealthy behavior and there are people willing to help you when you need it. Contact me when you can._"

BANG HEAD HERE.

Emotional manipulator. Underhanded control freak.

"Op?" I called via internal comline.

"Yes?"

"I'm thinking a vacation might be nice."

"Let me guess, Rodimus: Ultra Magnus took the day off to be with Arcee and Alpha Trion has left several messages."

"Yup." I confirmed. "Please tell me you went through this slag. Please tell me you remember." But Optimus offered a long silence. I frowned, aching for validation. Never to let me down, he came through.

"I remember deaths, Roddi. Hundreds of them. I remember someone on the inside betrayed Autobots to illegal experiments and the bodies piled the streets ... I was exiled for discovering the truth. But I can't remember the circumstances."

That was enough for me. His life sucked as much as mine. I'd like to go out and 'get perspective', as Op so politely put it (climb a building and think). But I can sulk while doing process work. At least it'd get my mind off His Trionness.

Optimus and I communicated between our offices via the televisor screen on our walls. He sat at his desk, pouring through assignment trails, daily routines, questions and complaints and general city upkeep. I sat _on_ my desk and traced Modulus' activities. I hated this kind of work: meticulous, time consuming and boring.

"Hey," I said to my best friend, "heard from Magnus?"

Op did not have to look at me. "He informed me he took the day off, Rodimus. Something regarding issues with-"

"Arcee," I finished. "That's right, I remember." I laid on the desk, optics glued to the ceiling. "Op, should we flip a coin over Magnus' work? One side will be for drill work and the other for personnel reports and shipping."

"Mm. I'm not inclined toward drill work, Roddi," Op answered lightly. "That's always been Magnus' forte."

His words dragged images from a memory and I burst into laughter. "Ha-ha!! Op, I remember an incident when Magnus was laid up after a battle with the Decepticons. You had to take over drill in Metroplex for a week. But instead of running drills, you taught us espionage-how to pick locks, break into buildings, modify damaged weapons and 'lace' body bridges. I liked the body bridge idea the most. Where'd you learn all that stuff, Op? Do you recall any of that?"

He did not answer right away. Staring at him upside down from the desk, I waited with a fading smile. Rolling over, I wondered if that part of him was gone, just like memories of Elita-One or Ironhide. To my delight, Optimus' expression lifted to a pleased smile.

"I do remember, Roddi," he finally answered. Op shook his head. "But you'd not want to hear it."

"Hey!" I protested. "That's not fair! What's the big secret? Were you part of a traveling circus or something? Did you steal the idea from someone else? Were you part of a crime syndicate?"

He froze at the last suggestion and I stared, surprised. Optimus set the digipads down and folded his hands on them. He gazed at the edge of his desk before meeting my optics through the visascreen. "I was a mercenary for a while, Rodimus. Not something I'm proud of." he paused, "we stranded a lot of people in space, usually on asteroids or dysfunctional ships. I was exiled from Cybertron and decided I wasn't going to be an Autobot leader anymore and I'd make my life my own. To the Pitt with the Autobots; they did not need me and I was not interested in the responsibility. So I walked away. It was a mistake and a lot of people paid dearly for my arrogance."

"Was that why Magnus was so angry? You taught us mercenary tactics? Or was he angry because it was stuff he didn't think of himself?"

Optimus smiled lightly and picked up his digipads. "Magnus believes in nothing less than absolute honor, Roddi. Discipline, respect and integrity separates Autobots from our enemies. It's what defines us as a people-or supposed to. To Ultra Magnus, guerilla warfare belongs to rebels and criminals. There is nothing wrong with how Magnus sees it. But I've used it as a system of survival."

I grunted, sympathizing with Optimus' disposition. "I'll bet Trion also had a thing or two to say about it. He _always_ has a thing or two to say about how I handle things." I pitched my voice to imitate Trion's wibble: "All things for Autobots, Rodimus', he'd say. 'Walk your talk, Rodimus.' 'Grace in place and pride aside.'" I grunted. "He's a nanny goat wrapped in the skin of an old robofart. It drives me crazy!" I rolled on my back again and punched in several unsavory words at the end of a memo to myself to kick Blurr's butt. I stewed over Trion's irritating nature and yet, I delighted hearing something of Op's past from Optimus; something gritty and honest; wonderfully refreshing.

"Did you want to take a break, Rodimus?" Op offered after several moments. "I could-"

"Nah. I'm just cranky because everything I've found so far on Modulus is legit and squeaky. Not so much as a misspelled word."

"Well, you might like to know that Modulus has received a few write-ups for failure to complete his documents and one for a fight in public back in 2033."

"Oh yeah?" I said sleepily. "So who wrote him up?"

"Exel Pi."

"Hey, that reminds me, Op. Now that I'm not young and stupid anymore, and since we're yammering on about the past. I need to ask you something."

"Alright."

"There was an incident between me and Sunstreaker."

"No, Rodimus," Op objected. "There were _many_ incidents between you and Sunstreaker."

"Right, right. Anyway, there was one where he was assigned to clear the road way between Mt. St Hillary and Highway 138. And I went behind him and messed it up again so he'd have to redo it and we did this for four days. Don't tell me, Op that you didn't know what was going on."

"I remember that, Rodimus. And yes, I knew what was going on."

Grinning like a mad mech, I stared at Op upside down. "So... how come you didn't do anything-much less say anything about it?"

Optimus connected two digipads together and took a sip of energon. "Because Roddi, unknown to you, the twins hacked into Magnus' duty roster and assigned you and Springer to sanding duty. Ultra Magnus and I already specified that for Gears, Chase and Huffer. When Sideswipe and Sunstreaker came to complain to me, I turned them over to Ultra Magnus who gladly gave them a piece of my mind."

My smile died a little bit. Back then, I was a bit intimidated and in awe (I still can be) of the Autobot leader. But now I totally appreciate the crap he went through to keep things together.

"Does that answer your question, Rodimus?"

I slide back and returned to tracing Modulus' activities. "Yup. Thank you for not giving me a piece of your mind, Op."

"You're welcome."

Just as Op answered, some sawed-off afthole banged on my door. Literally. Then without my permission, Sixshit barged in. I sat up, legs over the edge. "Hey," I greeted cooly. "You know, Sixshot, _most_ people have the courtesy to wait until they are _invited_ into my office. They do not just walk in."

He dipped his head in a malicious smile. "_Your boss_ wanted me to deliver this." The gargoyle held the digipad out but did not come closer. He wanted me to get up and take it from him.

I sat there and stared, waiting for him to bring it to me.

Mind games.

The ex-Con shrugged. "Well, if you don't want it, I'll just take it back and tell Elder Trion that you threw it and tossed me out your office. I'm sure he'd like that story."

I thought I sensed Optimus hanging by my doorway but I did not see him-neither did the braggart. I frowned. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say." That surprised him. I slid off the desk and fished the pile of digipads for an unused one. "You know, Sixshot, I think I might have an assignment for you. The Dinobots could use a housekeeper."

He smiled cold. "You're afraid of me," he taunted. "The mighty Autobot leader sitting in his little doll's house, all cozy is afraid of me!" Sixshot filled my office with boisterous laugher and he threw the digipad at me.

I ducked when the sextet-changer transformed to wolf mode. I rolled backward over the top of my desk. Sixshot smashed into my chair but rebounded off the window faster than I moved. He pinned me to the floor, mouth open and snapped at my face.

CRAK-BOOM!

The braggart yelped, crashed into the desk and scattered digipads in all directions. He transformed and oofed when Optimus speared him in the middle. Sixshot kneed Optimus in the middle and threw him off.

I swear by Primus that I'd never seen Optimus move so fast, so precisely. He kicked the gargoyle and dislocated Sixshot's mandible. He grabbed Sixshot's left arm, dragged him off the floor in a swing and smashed him into the nearest wall then before I objected, Optimus yanked off Sixshot's left arm and tossed it out the hallway. Then his left foot, right hand and finally the six-changer himself.

Staggering to the doorpost, I dumbly stared at my friend as he squatted before the wounded and leaking Decepticon. "Sixshot," Op's voice came even and calm. Somehow it was not really him talking; it wasn't Op. "Tell _your_ boss that any further attempts like this on Rodimus' life will have similar results."

Streetwise and Dateline arrived, weapons at the ready. Optimus stood straight, his expression calm. "Streetwise, Sixshot is under arrest for insubordination and undue attack on the Autobot leader."

I approached the door way and leaned against the post, a bit unnerved. Op scrutinized me for injury. With a nod, I silently assured him I was okay. But I shuddered to consider that what Op did to Sixshot, he might have done to Trion had I not stopped him.

I called it a night after the ordeal. Trion more than once warned me Optimus was dangerous. I passed his trepidation off as not more than gibberish to separate me from an ally. Now as I sat in my darkened room, I questioned my judgement. Was I right to trust Optimus at all? Was Trion right to warn me about his potential instability? What if Optimus eventually saw me as a threat and eliminated me?

I was so sure I had nothing to fear.

I pushed off the floor and cast my doubtful optics upon the city outside, far below my window. Metroplex slumbered in serenity. But the quiet cityscape reflected nothing of the danger brewing with Trion's ever growing machinations.

As I pondered at my window, I spotted _him_. Modulus. I narrowed my optics. I could not sense him through the Matrix at all. Certainly, my instincts were right; he was an intruder; someone whose lights I could punch out.

I locked the entryway to my quarters and changed the authorization codes. Usually I gave my codes to Op and Magnus. But it won't be tonight-and certainly not to Magnus.

Accessing special controls in the wall, I opened an entryway from my quarters to the outside world. The emergency access dropped three storeys to the western side of Central. But I knew the precautionary security access points. It's not bright to just drop from the balcony. So I slipped down one story, reentered Central Command, transformed and drove toward Maintenance. It's not wise to exit the building from there, either because everyone is scanned as they come and go. However, Magnus built a special emergency space between the first and second levels. This was painstakingly kept out of the specs. Most of such spaces in Metroplex are. I waited for the all-clear then slipped from hall A to corridor B and through the wall space between conference room ten and chemical storage.

The exit, carefully hidden behind a false storage bin, opened soundlessly. The night air greeted me and I realized for the first time I was truly free to come and go. All I needed was a can of invisibility spray.

Autobots who had never been to Earth always think those on Metroplex are a little weird. We've adopted a lot of things on Earth to blend in as much as an alien robot can. This includes shutting much of the city down at night-we don't have to. After all, there is no difference between day and night on Cybertron. But energy preservation makes a lot of sense. And statistically, Autobots who have stayed at Metroplex for any length of time say they love having the extra time off.

Sneaking past the courtyard, inundated with CDA propaganda posters, I shifted and drove toward the down town area. A few places remained open twenty-four/seven for those workers who lived and worked the night shift. Gift shops stood silent as tombstones. Three-quarters of the city's light dimmed; not necessary at night.

I felt awkward sneaking about in my own city just to catch an intruder off guard. Not that I've never done this before. A time or two I'd have to sneak about searching for Optimus who had a occasional knack for disappearing so that even Kup and his boys couldn't find him.

It caused me to pause. I stared down the roadway headed out of town. If I, the Autobot leader, had to sneak around my own city; fearful of betrayal, then the situation between Metroplex and the CDA was worse than I thought.

How did it deteriorate to the point where I could not trust anyone?

Slight movement registered at three o'clock. Stay still. Don't move. I hated waiting games. I scanned for something to send my false interest into.

There we go; a wad of chewing gum on the sidewalk. Yay! It's all dried and ready-

There! Movement erupted into a dash and I sprang like a coiled serpent, complete with an extra handspring. I landed in front of my target and kicked Modulus off his feet.

A squeal issued from the mystery intruder and hissing followed. I yanked him up and slammed him into the wall. "Who are you!?" I spat.

"What are you doing?!" he cried. "

I slammed him again. "I SAID who are you?! And don't feed me any smelt cuz I already know you're NOT an Autobot!"

"No! Help! He's lost his-GKKK!"

My hand closed about his neck and I held him nose-to-nose. "Don't bother. I am the Autobot leader and you'll be smouldering before anyone arrives. NOW WHO THE PITT ARE YOU?!"

"No! No!" Modulus squealed. "You'll get us both killed! Let me go!"

I hauled him off the wall, swung him around for good momentum and slammed him into the wall yet again. At this point, I used enough force to crack even Magnus' thick cranium. Instead, staring at me with gruesome yellow organic optics, was a single-faced Quintesson. I about laughed.

"Why, Grandma," I said, "what an ugly face you have! I'm surprised the Big Bad Wolf hasn't found and eaten you yet. What the Pitt are you doing in Metroplex? And who are you?"

"Ask whats you wishes, Autobot. I has nothing to say."

I grabbed him round the neck and held him face-to-smelly face. "Why, Grandma, what a crappy liar you are! All the more reason to call up Ultra Magnus from his busy-ness and find new and improved ways to annoy you."

His form and structural composition changed. Now I held dear old Uncle Trion. His plaintive face stared at me with sincere pain.

I grinned. "You're good. But I doubt I'll feel badly about kicking your aft. Come on, Grandma. Let's go to my place. I'll make you some rice crispy treats."

"No, no!" it crowed. "Please, please. I'll's-I'll's tells you what you wants to know."

"Not here, Precious. This isn't a good place." He choked as I dragged him off the street and into Kup's security office just down the road. I shut off most all systems in the room, the computer, the communications connections and all hidden devices. The One-face's optics moved with every step I made and I could not resist being obnoxious. Twice I feigned to hit him, just to remind the Quint I was not above killing it.

I hauled up a chair, shoved the One-face into it and sat on Kup's desk. "Okay, Cookie. Talk. Who are you?"

"I's not obligated to tells anything to you, Rodimus Prime."

I paused, trying to decide whether to make minced meat out of the Quint or kill it just enough to leave the body at Trion's front door like a cat giving its owner a dead mouse. "Okay," I accepted simply. "Well ... I'm not obligated to leave you alive."

Its smile curved in the most disgusting manner. "You's an Autobot. You won't's kill me. That was in yours original programs. Consumer Goods was pre-programmed to protects life. You can't's go against-"

He shut his mouth the moment I produced my laser rifle, pushed the settings to overload and set it to his forehead. "It ... is true that most Autobots avoid fighting whenever possible, yes. But let's get this straight, Granny-san. I am a _Prime_. It is my _job_ to take care of everyone else. I will do _whatever_ it takes, _whatever_ is _demanded_ to do that job. If it means killing you, minus information, okay. I don't have a problem with that. I might even be cranky enough to leave a peanut butter-and-Quintesson sandwich for Kup to clean up. No apologies."

I came close to Granny so there'd be no doubt about my intention. "Consider me an Autobot Bad Boy with a short fuse, okay?" I withdrew to the desk and kept the rifle across my lap. "Let's start from the top. Who are you and why are you here?"

"I's am Grenwan Puprion, informations advisor to's the Board of Resources." The Quint paused.

"Go on," I insisted.

"You's not wishes to know more, Rodimus Prime. The peoples to I's answer could makes yours life less than simple."

"Mm. Okay." I replied casually, "since you obviously don't have anything to lose, I'll just ah ... take you out, slice you up and send your pieces to a few friends and allies of mine. And then I will let the defense administration know what and who I caught."

"I's already guesses there is a ninety-three point twelve percent chance you plan to kills me no matter whats I's says."

"And why would I do anything different? Quintessons are nothing but back-stabbing opportunists. And I never met a Quint who wouldn't rather see us dead."

"I's do not expects you's to spare my life, Rodimus Prime."

"Oh, yeah?"

"What I's asks is that you incinerate my remains."

"Enough games," I growled. I grabbed Granny by the neck and started dragging the Quint outside.

"Waits! Waits!"

"What?!" I snapped, patience lost.

"There is one thing I's needs tell you's, Rodimus Prime."

"Oh, what a surprise!"

"The facility on Mars; it's not a mining facility. That's why I's here; to see many Humans go to Mars."

My optics darkened. "Why?"

"They processes though Cybertron. They goes through Cybertron for training-"

"Just answer the question."

"Black energon-"

I activated the rifle, my optics flared. "Do you really think I'm that ignorant and _stupid_??"

"No! No! The Humans ARE black energon!"

I had one of those moment where I think I knew how Op must feel some of the time; confused and clueless. "Black energon ... as in Quintesson food supplies?"

"Ah! Autobot leader not quites so defective as they says. Too bad it's too late, Rodimus Prime. Yeses, too bad it's too late for you's. All too late."

It was not too late to take out the trash. I dragged Grandma outside as the sky lightened for an early dawn.

I don't regret putting the Quintesson 'down'. I don't regret mailing pieces of him to the Continuum and Cybertron with anonymous love notes.

I do regret, however, not knowing what to do about the usurpation growing under my feet. And I certainly regret preventing Optimus from killing Trion the moment he intended to.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

MANIPULATIONS

_Beeeeep! "Hey, Op. I hope you slept in cuz you worked pretty hard and you deserve it. ANYway, I'm off-planet and won't be back for a few days. Since Magnus has mentally disappeared, you're in charge. Don't let Uncle Trion push you around. I know you won't let him, but you know, I worry for you. 'K? See you in a few days._"

Optimus drained a third cup of energon as he watched Skyfire enter Metroplex air space. No telling how many days Roddi would be gone. Not that it really mattered. Besides, he needed time away. Three days ago, Kup locked Sixshot in the brig tight as a psychopath in a sarcophagus. Then just yesterday, some CDA pinhead invaded Autobot City and used the most inconceivable rhetoric to bail the gargoyle out.

Optimus' optics flared. The only way to be rid of Sixshot was to take him out a chunk at a time. But violence solved nothing, particularly anything regarding Alpha Trion and politics. The Matrix liked the idea of executing Sixshot-gruesome or not. However there were other ways and means to deal with such a nuisance. It did not have to be obvious.

Optimus underhandedly reassigned the miscreant and got him off the streets. Autobots and Humans were not the only personnel residing in the city. There were the unruly Monsterbots. Six of them, according to Kup. Optimus did not have time to get acquainted with them himself. But he heard enough horror stories to deduce they were more trouble than the Dinobots had ever been.

Rodimus said the Monsterbots escaped a series of stasis pods tucked away in the ancient tunnels of Cybertron. Galvatron once invaded the planet and released an experimental Quintesson energy monster. That, in turn, roused the Monsterbots from suspended animation. Rodimus passed the story off as a really bad event and did not go into detail.

Nevertheless, they now provided the perfect assignment for the insolent sextant blockhead.

An incoming call forced Optimus from his morning contemplation. No sooner did he pick up the receiver than someone buzzed the door for permission to enter. Optimus pressed an entrance key on his desk and in stepped Alpha Trion. Optimus chose to attend the phone call rather than greet the elder. "City Director." he answered in near-monotone. Optimus selected a digipad and scrawled across the top. "No, I'm sorry. Ultra Magnus, the City Commander handles shipping and receiving. I'm not aware of -again, I know nothing of the seating. No. Rodimus Prime is not available-I can't answer that. Thank you."

He hung up and gave Trion an expectant gaze.

The CDA member offered a slight smile. "I guess you've answered my question before I could ask it."

Optimus hesitated and swirled slightly in his chair. "Alpha Trion, have you seen or heard from Ultra Magnus?"

He shook his head. "Yesterday, perhaps."

Optimus acknowledged with a silent nod. He picked out a digipad, glanced at it, signed and set it aside then reached for another, ignoring Trion. The Autobot 'grandfather' swept his gaze across the wall of windows, taking in the magnificent view.

The Matrix stirred like a restless fish in a bowl. _Trust nothing._

"Optimus," Trion's tenor voice hit the silent room. "I've recently taken liberty to examine some of your reports on the day-to-day activity here at Metroplex. I have to admit, they're really well done."

Optimus scanned through details of damage along the interior of Eastmont Roadway on the south side entrance and ordered repairs done within the following week. "I'm glad you approve of my work," he replied absently.

Trion studied him a moment more: "Why don't you just come work for me?" His voice pitched to hopeful excitement. "I'd-I'd _love_ to have you work as head of my staff!"

Optimus authorized two vacation requests and someone's transfer from the South Gate entrance to custodian duty at the Eastern Wall. "I thought Siena was handling that," he said quietly.

Trion looked surprised. "How did you know that?"

"I've exchanged pleasantries with her."

The elder's optics glued themselves to Optimus and an air of admiration glowed from Alpha Trion. "That's remarkable. Did she tell you?"

Optimus wrote in a letter of warning to Remix about his habitual tardiness. "No, Trion. She did not need-"

"Then how do you know?" Trion's voice sharpened with suspicion. His whole form turned toward Optimus.

Optimus signed the letter and sent it electronically. He chose another pad and read a report regarding activity along the grounds around Central Command. "It doesn't take a genius to deduce that-if that's what you're suspicious about, Alpha Trion. She knows your work schedule, itinerary and your down time." Optimus lifted his optics to see Trion's unamused attitude. "She also knows who accompanies you to each meeting."

Trion slowly nodded like a cat caught with its paw in the tuna can. "You know, Optimus, maybe Rodimus is right about you."

Optimus carefully concealed his expression, staring at Trion as though he were a stranger.

Alpha Trion expected some sort of puzzled or curious look. But 'Zombized Optimus' just stared. "Well," Trion stumbled to stay on track, that is, he believes eventually you may return to that original mental acuity before your-ahhh..." Trion tried to be diplomatic.

The Matrix found Trion's verbal dilemma amusing. Optimus chose to help: "you can say it, Trion. Before my death."

"Well, I was trying to be polite. But yes, before your death. Anyway, Optimus I would still like to hire you as my personal administra-"

"Thank you, Alpha Trion. But no thank you."

Trion smiled. How about, 'let me think it over,' instead? After all, I can offer you a good number of perks."

Optimus' door chimed and he granted access. Kup stepped in with Sunstreaker and Twin Twist in tow. The security officer politely nodded to Alpha Trion as he put away his laser pistol. Optimus rose from his chair, delighted for the sudden intrusion.

Trion forced a smile. "We can discuss it later, Optimus," he announced. But Optimus did not answer.

"Kup?" Optimus greeted. "What is this?"

"A shaft-cracking, optic-tweaking irritation." the cranky security chief turned to his charges. "Sit." he snarled.

They slowly found a chair at the desk. Sunstreaker looked guilty, his optics cast off. But Twin Twist remained doggedly defiant, staring Kup square in the optics, a snarl distorted his visage.

Kup professionally ignored him. "Sorry, Optimus. Couldn't locate Ultra Magnus."

Optimus leaned over, hands palmed to his desk. "What?"

"Called all morning. Even asked the City." Kup's frown turned darker. "Otherwise, I'd be dragging these two tire-slashing yahoos off to the City Commander's office."

Optimus nodded in acknowledgment. He pressed a comline button on his desk. "Tempra, this is Optimus."

"Yes, sir?"

"Will you please locate Steeljaw and assign him to locate our missing City Commander?"

"Of course. Oh, and the finance report from Springer is in."

"Send it to me, Tempra. Thanks." Optimus settled in his chair and Kup stepped to the side to allow the director a good view of the two Autobot delinquents. "Now, then. What seems to be the problem here?"

"Had another fight between them. Almost injured two innocents. Rodimus told me to drag them back to him if they erupted into one more fight. He's not here. Magnus' missing. Didn't know if you were willing to tackle it or not."

Optimus folded his arms and nodded once. "So there was a fight. Twin Twist, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No." the Jumpstarter sulked. "But it's not my fault."

Sunstreaker leered. "_I_ certainly didn't start it."

"Liar." Twist snarled.

"I am NOT!" Sunstreaker squirmed in his seat, longing to punch his adversary in the snout.

"Every fight has been because you just have to strut and show everyone up. You are so fragging full of-"

"Stop!" Optimus firmly cut him off. "Sunstreaker, tell me what happened. That's an order."

Both Sunstreaker and Kup flinched. They had not heard Optimus sat that since ... since ... The Autobot warrior quickly shifted mental gears to answer: "Sides and me were patrolling the eastern side and did a little off-road racing. That's when Two-Bit-brain here came around. He decided we were upsetting his entire universe and tried to play chickenbot."

Optimus turned to the skulking Jumpstarter. "Twin Twist?"

"He's lying."

"I am NOT!" Streaker shouted. "You fragging punk!" one glare from Optimus warned Sunstreaker to settle down.

"Twin Twist, I am waiting to hear your side of the story."

Twist's hot glare settled on Streaker, but he could not meet Optimus in the optics. "I was on the eastern side, minding my own business when these two horse-and-carriage wannabe's revved on either side of me and egged me into a race. So I took them on and won and Sunstupid here got all mad cuz I bested him-"

"Oh, who's lying now, you reject waste disposal!"

"That is enough!" Optimus shot back.

"See?" Twist pointed. "I'm tellin ya, he all prissy because I won the race and now he's having to lie to stay out of trouble!"

"Optimus I am not lying, I swear." Sunstreaker pleaded, his optics focused only on his commanding officer. "We got into a bad argument and it drew the attention of a couple other Autobots. We got into a fist fight and it just got out of hand."

The next moment astonished Kup so that he found few words to describe in his report: Twin Twist snarled like a rabid animal. His fingers snapped into deadly blades and he leapt for Sunstreaker. He moved so fast, Kup would never have caught him in time to protect Sunstreaker.

But what shocked the security chief was how much faster Optimus moved. He kicked the Jumpstarter's feet out then kicked the chair in his face to prevent Twist from targeting Sunny with anything else. Then Optimus kicked Twin Twist so hard, the Jumpstarter not only slammed into the wall, but smeared a solid impression in the metal. Op was on him like a cat, hands behind his back and a restraint about his wrists.

Twin Twist snarled and growled like a robotic animal. "Go ahead," he dared. "Put me in the brig. Confine me to quarters. Alpha Trion will take care of everything."

"I'm sure he will," Optimus matched Twist's angry words. "But I won't _bother_ confining you, Twin Twist. I know that's what you want. No, Twin Twist. I have better ideas for you."

"The 'phone' on Tempra's comline chimed.

"Metroplex central Command, City Commander's office. This is Tempra, how may I direct your call? No, I'm sorry, Commander Ultra Magnus is not available. Do you wish to speak to the city director? Yes, that would be Optimus. Yes, I know the delay is irritating. I am certain someone will-uh huh. Well... No. Rodimus Prime is on business leave-"

Tempra's optics about fell out of her head. She stood while the Central City planning chairman rattled on about unfinished projects and people waiting to move forward.

"Ultra Magnus," she whispered, "is everything-"

"Not now, Tempra." he stomped into his office.

"Sir, I have sixty-four messages and Optimus-"

"I SAID NOT NOW!"

The door closed in her face. She paused a fraction of a second then rushed back to her desk. "Mister O'Danue, I will have to call you back." She hung up on him and started to call Optimus when Magnus' door swished open and he stared at her, aghast.

"Tempra! What the fenestrated smelt is going on out there!?"

"Sir?"

"Twin Twist! What the living Pitt-"

"You'll have to ask Optimus, Sir. He's-" Tempra's laser core vibrated hard as Magnus stomped off, a locomotive of anger wrought by the molten lava from hell.

Optimus finished filing construction reports to Central City's summer commission. He half listened as the news gabbed about China's recent oceanic exploits and the new 'desert pearl' discovered in the Gobi. The subject shifted to Oregon's crowded coastlines; business owners fighting ecologists with politicians playing ping-pong between them.

One of the smaller, older digipads bleeped for attention and Optimus swept it up with a glance at a poll declaring public opinion over Rodimus' current status. As of to date, according to the news, seventy-four percent of Autobots and Humans approved of Rodimus' administration with twenty-one percent stating he was not working fast enough and the least percentage believe Trion and the CDA were better qualified to lead the Autobots.

Optimus turned the veiwscreen off and scanned the digipad containing Steeljaw's report. A warning entailed unusual activity around the administration chamber construction zone. Optimus granted Steeljaw approval to investigate further. But he warned the Autobot tracker not to get caught.

The Matrix stirred. Magnus' life signatures vibrated down the hall. The city commander did not bother chiming the door. He barged in and pointed out the windows with a face distorted by fury. "WHAT THE FLAMING HELL IS THAT ALL ABOUT?!"

Optimus calmly turned round. Twin Twist dangled from a nearby building. Cuffed, gaged and shackled, he swung by a cord wrapped round his wrists and waist. The Matrix found the idea amusing and satisfying.

Optimus swivelled to face the city commander. "It's about me having to do your job."

"Don't patronize me, Optimus-"

"I wouldn't, Ultra Magnus, if all I had to do was my own job."

Magnus was about to retort when Optimus' comline bleeped. "Director," Optimus answered.

Arcee's sweet voice came over the air. "Hi, Optimus. If you see my _Ultsy Magsy_, would you let him know that I'll be... _home_... waiting for him?"

Optimus sent Magnus a stern gaze. "Yes, Arcee. I'll see to it he gets the message."

"Thank you."

She signed off and Optimus leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face hard. "Did you want me to forward all your messages and reports?"

"Yes," Magnus growled. "And take him down."

"No." Optimus replied simply. "You were not to be found. There was a situation. Rodimus at least has the courtesy to let me know he's leaving and when he will return-"

"With all due respect, Optimus, you are not my superior."

"No," Optimus agreed, "but the distractions in your private life force me to take your responsibilities."

"Resp-" Magnus choked, "you call _that_ responsible?!" he pointed to Twin Twist. "_That ... that_ is unacceptable! Once Trion gets wind of that, you'll be in such deep sludge, it won't be _possible_ for you to climb out-not to mention a political mess for Rodimus!"

"I did what was necessary."

"**WHAT**?! Have you lost your fragging mind?!"

"Twin Twist and Sunstreaker have been charged with public outbursts three times this month alone. Twin Twist has repeatedly started fights with a record number of Autobots. I chose to isolate him where I can keep an optic on him at all times. Twin Twist is dangerous and cannot be trusted."

Magnus almost could not suppress his outrage. "He is also one of Trion's bodyguards!"

"And undoubtedly a spy." Optimus swiftly added.

Magnus opened his mouth again to retaliate when Optimus' door buzzed. Optimus granted entry and in stepped two Autobots bearing digipads and expectancy in their expressions. Optimus gave the city commander a 'nice try' expression. "Thank you, Ultra Magnus I will not keep you. I know you have other things to attend."

Magnus glared, turned about face and would have stormed out but kept the boiling-point argument under wraps. They'd finish the 'debate' later.

Optimus attended road conditions and traffic reports. He authorized system updates on Blaster's transmission boards and held a meeting with the Douglas County supervisor for District Two regarding bridge repairs and volunteer visits by Autobots to a collection of fifth grade classes. He set up another appointment with Dr. Sameko.

Security reports filed in from the Lunar Colony which Optimus gladly sent to Ultra Magnus while he tackled personnel details and science reports.

The day sunk into night when Optimus permitted city security to take Twin Twist inside under solitary confinement until morning. After a short break, Optimus resumed his work, watched two separate press conferences held by Alpha Trion until he checked the time again. The day slipped into 3:20 AM.

He did not want to stop working. But his processors needed to defrag. Magnus said nothing to him all day; not that Optimus expected him to.

The city director retired to his quarters. Rodimus special ordered paintings of galactic spacescapes for Optimus' quarters; images neutral in nature but beautiful. Optimus liked them because they did not depict things he might recall during the day and dream of at night.

Optimus settled into recharge mode. Let the darkness descend and the day fall quiet. But the quiet did not last. Distant whispers neither Human nor Cybertronian haunted him; sleep mocked his effort. He called for light and sat up. Part of him longed to hear a real voice; Roddi's in particular.

Four-thirty AM. Optimus debated returning to his desk. Perhaps he'd fall asleep at his chair as he did more often than he admitted to Dr. Sameko.

Pouring himself a soothing cup of hot ten-weight, Optimus rejoined his office. He left the lights off to watch the picture-perfect view. Metroplex spread before him; a complex of lights and serenity in the late springtime night. In spite of the scenery, Optimus' soul lay vacant. He should be more a complete person rather than this shadow of a personality trapped in a body. He was like a little child wearing a sweater far too big for his body. A call came from Magnus' office, sparing the depressing moment.

Magnus' tone dropped several degrees from the shouting he'd done earlier. "I-uh-I hoped you'd still be up. I-You were right. I was irresponsible. And I apologize."

"Forget it, Magnus," Optimus dismissed. "it's not that big a deal."

"Yeah, it is. I let you down. I've been negligent and I'm sorry. So, as Rodimus would say, how about a truce?" Optimus gave the visascreen a sidelong glance with weary optics. Magnus read it and realized he spoke into a room devoid of light. "Oh boy. Another sleepless one, Optimus?" The city director mutely nodded. just vaguely Optimus heard Arcee's sensuous voice summon Magnus' attention.

"Oh!" Magnus perked up. "I've received several requests to contact workers who have left for the Mars Project. Do you know whether or not the first two groups have sent or received letters or reports yet?"

Optimus looked perplexed. "No. Come to think on it,

Magnus, I've heard nothing at all. When did they start working?"

"I actually do not know myself. I thought someone on Cybertron was handling it but from what I've received, no one can get answers. There's been no communication. It's probably nothing. But I'll assign someone to look into it."

"Proceed with caution, Magnus. The whole Mars situation is too quite. No incidents, good or otherwise."

Magnus nodded, understanding Optimus' concern. "I'll keep you posted. Good night, then, Optimus." Magnus signed off and cut communication.

Optimus stared at the blank screen. His heart hung empty and lonely. Why did he feel like something was missing all the time? Well... maybe several _somethings_; missing parts from an engine, pieces from a puzzle. A plant missing water. Finally tired enough to rest, Optimus went back to his quarters and tried to shut down for a while. "Metroplex," he called, "music, please."

SPECIFY TYPE.

"Whatever..." the lonely Autobot paused. He lived in the wrong era, the wrong time. Everything he knew and managed to remember existed eighty years ago. "Whatever... " He was not in the mood for one of Roddi's 'get-up-and-kick-aft songs. "Whatever Rusti Witwicky might have heard. Whatever-" he choked, "whatever she might have liked."

Optimus laid down as the song filed his empty quarters.

_I look in the mirror and I don't see me._

_ I'm not who I should be._

_ Someone hear me._

_ Something's wrong._

_ My life is not the right song. _

_ You are a shadow,_

_ a painful sweet memory._

Optimus fell to sleep before the end of the song. He dreamt of someone's gentle kiss. Another song played now, something about rain in the desert, clouds and flowers painted with sunlight. Waking but briefly, Optimus produced his treasure box and laid it beside him as though it were the person he missed.

That fragment pushed Optimus to tears but wearied with sorrow, he managed to go back to sleep.

The city director forgave himself for returning to work late that morning. Eight-thirty AM light replaced artificial luminosity. The scenery outside his beautiful view promised rain by the end of the day. Those innocent white, fluffy clouds did not fool him.

Even before his usual cup of morning 'wake-me juice' (another _Rodimism_) and message reports from the city, Optimus eyed the four main digipads lining his desk.

Steeljaw already submitted his findings. City activity reports waited his attention. And then he encountered another speeding ticket for Blurr. What a pain in the aft. Optimus was tired of forking out funds and reminders to the speeding Autobot. Picking up another digipad, Optimus tapped in an order for Blurr to visit his office before the end of the day.

Enough was enough.

Trion hovered outside Optimus' doors, pacing. He had not buzzed for permission to enter yet and Optimus was not in the mood to talk with him. His blue optics darkened with annoyance. What did Roddi's self-imposed baby sitter want, now?

The door buzzed and Optimus stared at it, wondering if he should be polite and accommodating or irritated. What did Trion want? Optimus supposed he'd never know if he turned the elder away. "Enter," he granted.

Trion did so, scanning the spacious office like a vermin sniffing for something to scavenge. Optimus watched him, expressionless and objective. The Matrix watched too, suspicious and attentive.

"Good morning, Optimus. I see Rodimus is not here."

Part of Optimus did not care. It was a stupid remark. The Matrix snipped a private, sarcastic comment. Either way, he said nothing.

"Have you heard from him?"

"No," Optimus evenly replied. He could not take his optics off Trion. Something nagged him.

Trion sat at the edge of Optimus' large desk and glanced at a digipad. He picked it up, read it over then returned it. Optimus sat there, frozen, reading the elder's body language, expression and lip components as they moved all so slightly. Trion took notice he was being watched and drew a nervous smile. "Well, now, did you see my interview yesterday?"

"Which one?" Optimus asked, keeping his voice under control.

Trion looked pleased. "Ah, you did, then. Good. Do you... know if Rodimus watched them? What did he say about them?"

"He was not here, Alpha Trion. He said nothing to me, if he did." Optimus almost added an apology at the end but the Matrix cut it off. No need to apologize to someone who is trespassing and snooping around.

"Hmm. Well, what did _you_ think about it?"

The Matrix quickly picked out a digipad without even bothering to make sure it was the right one. Optimus handed it to the Autobot elder, optics not once moving from Trion's face. "I was curious, Trion, about the water trade."

Trion twitched as though he'd seen a ghost.

_Caught ya!_ The Matrix thought. Optimus narrowed his optics just slightly. The Matrix spotted that one twitch which, as of to date, only Roddi noticed.

Trion glanced over the digipad and carefully worked to conceal any sense of fear or guilt. He was not aware the Matrix read it just as easily as seeing sunshine.

"Oh!" Trion declared. "Oh, yes of course! I see what you're asking me. Yes, of course! Well, as you know, um, Optimus, there is a water shortage on Cybertron. And here, I've tried for months to get Rodimus to set up a negotiation trade for chunks of glacier ice off the Antarctic-I mentioned all that in the interview. I thought you said you had seen it."

"It's not the glacier ice," Optimus answered in a corrective manner. "But how you're asking it to be shipped; in kryptonic tubes lined with metallic plutonium?"

"Ah, yes. Um, the canisters. I'm glad you're being so astute in keeping abreast with everything that's going on, Optimus."

Optimus frowned. "Don't overdo the praise, Trion. I'm only doing my job."

"Of course! I'm just implementing how delighted I am that you don't let anything slip by your desk. And to put your fears to rest, let me assure you the canisters are shipped here because some water is used to produce specialized batteries which function better when manufactured under the chilled conditions of the Antarctic. So you see? It's all in the light of good. But I'm glad you stay on top of it all, Optimus."

Part of Optimus grew confused. He never heard of such a thing but could not prove his suspicions. The Matrix, however, outright considered Trion a shameless liar.

They stared at one another. Trion held onto his expression, half expecting Optimus to say something. But once again, Rodimus' pet zombie did and said nothing. That always made it difficult for Trion to gauge and balance his communication. He squirmed, somewhat disconcerted over Optimus' unwavering stare.

"Optimus, you know, I keep thinking about the play we watched a few weeks ago. Do you recall the conversation we had about it?"

"Yes, but as I said, I did not see the entire play."

"Yes, that's right, I remember that now. Rather unfortunate. I've seen the musical a couple times before. Always well-performed. What exactly was it that forced you to leave?"

Optimus did not want to answer. He feared the truth might be twisted and used against him somehow. "Old memories," he finally answered.

"Oh. Oh that is sad. What uh, what exactly disturbed you?"

Optimus again hesitated to answer. He did not think Trion genuinely cared, it just hasn't been the elder's regular behavior pattern. What was he up to? Optimus decided however, that if Trion chose to exploit his answers, it did not matter if they were true or not. He cast his optics across the office and stared at the large visascreen. "The Quintessons," he answered with a measure of shame. "I remembered the Quintessons."

Trion acknowledged with a sagely nod. "Yes. A more sinister side of the drama. And true, Optimus. All the story is painfully true. And I sympathize about your dilemma with the Quintessons. What a terrible thing to happen to anyone!"

Optimus struggled to suppress memories of dark things; of the Quintessons doing things to him he'd never repeat even to Roddi. And if he did, he doubted there was vocabulary in any language strong enough to convey the horror he experienced. The Matrix flared in a quiet rage. The Quintessons regarded nothing sacred.

Trion spoke again. His pious voice lured Optimus to the present-and back to his previous suspicions. "You know, Optimus, my favorite part was when Maximus Prime and Nemesis fought. Excellent swordsmanship. Thespis always did a wonderful job portraying Maximus. But his swordsmanship... always magnificent. Oh. I'm sorry. Did you see that?"

"No. I could not-"

"Yes, of course. I understand. It must have been upsetting. Well, I could fill you in, tell you what happened after your, er, departure."

They made optical contact and Optimus nodded in wordless agreement. Trion paced the room, fingering his long chin. "Hmm. Let me see, here, you left at the point the Quintessons arrived. And they... contracted with Nemesis, did they not?"

Optimus nodded. The song thrummed in dreadful low tones. The actors reenacted an ancient Quintesson ritual involving mutilation in the name of purging evil rationales from their intense hatred of Transformers. For they believed rationalizations distracted them from their goal to retake Cybertron.

"_But behold_," Trion recited, "_Here this Prime hates for us. This Nemesis wrought of sludge from the depths of the Pitt. Here he smogs the planet with lies. Acid rains showered death from his spark and the wheels of his machinations empower the servos of his will.'_

'So they used him, Optimus and twisted his will to benefit theirs and through their ideals Nemesis built his empire of death. He resuscitated his long dead friend, Encledius, to serve as his personal protector. And his friend, though mostly dead, did everything Nemesis asked. All the while, Nemesis did nothing for Cybertron. He led them into despair. He forced others to administer to the people while he disappeared for long stretches at a time, never repeating to another soul of his whereabouts. But all along, Nemesis ever returned to the Quintessons, _and drank the dregs of their heresy_.'

'Eventually Nemesis became obsessed with his zombified friend. He turned to the enemy then started killing. He allied himself to Cybertron's enemies while he murdered millions and millions of Autobots all both innocent and ignorant of his treachery."

Trion paused here and smiled sadly at Optimus. "It's certainly a horror story if there ever was one, Optimus. But maybe now you understand why I worry for Roddi. Maybe you'll see why it's so important I keep an optic on him. He's so young and carefree-and bless him that I love him so much! He's just not willing to give up the hope that there could be peace between Autobots and Decepticons. After all, Optimus, a moon cannot change its crater scars. How can we expect the Decepticons to be any different?"

"The Decepticons are sapient creatures, Trion. They can make choices. A moon is not a living thing."

Trion laughed quietly. "To be sure, Optimus! I certainly stand corrected on my metaphors! My goodness." The CDA member paused as he gazed at Optimus. Most bots who suffered from delusional hero worship of Alpha Trion would have squirmed but Optimus felt no such admiration.

Trion settled at the corner of Optimus' desk again and folded his arms. "I was just wondering if Roddi had mentioned any new projects he might have in mind. Um, future ones for Cybertron or Metroplex."

"I'm afraid not. If he has made any, he's disclosed nothing to me."

"Hmm." Trion frowned. "It's been two and a half years since his last project. I would have thought by now he'd make plans for a new space station or-or further colonization... on Europa, perhaps."

Optimus scrutinized Trion, "There was the garden city he wanted to build but the CDA said it was a waste."

"Oh!" Trion grinned. "Ha, yes. That was an amusing idea-"

"It was a serious plan-"

"Flowers and ferns-"

"Medication and rare herbs to trade with the people in Sabris Thesalon who need natural vitamins for their children." Optimus caught the gleam of annoyance in Trion's expression. He pushed the subject: "Rodimus also wanted the garden for the terminally ill children who have to reside in Angel's Wing. It would have been easier for Rusti to go to an inner-city garden than out to the woods. She loved it there." Optimus had to look away and forced himself not to think too much of her. He tried not to think how the experimental gardens might have saved her life.

Trion removed himself from Optimus' desk. "Well, the idea was a flight of fancy over a frivolous idea for a people that have nothing to do with Cybertron-"

"Since when is it wrong to aid a species of people who are not like us?"

"Since always, Optimus!" Trion answered crossly. "Humans are fortunate we _tolerate_ them! And the life forms on Sabris Thesalon do not even approach our line of concern. They make good workers and that's about all." Trion pushed a diplomatic smile. "They're not Autobots. They're not _us_. They have different ideas and-" the elder caught himself.

Optimus narrowed his optics. "Come on, Trion, you can say it: 'their bodies are different."

Alpha Trion glared. "I think we're done here."

Optimus took on a smug expression. "Yes. We are." The Matrix was rather pleased and enjoyed watching Trion exist the office. But Trion left Optimus with questions about Rodimus.

Blurr received a stern note to see Optimus Prime that evening. Naturally he was on time but the Autobot leader made him wait as he poured over two more digipads.

"Sit down, Blurr." Optimus finally ordered.

'Yessir."

Prime shuffled a series of pads, taking his time before laying three in front of him. "Blurr, according to records, you have had 214 traffic violations in three months. That averages out to two a day. And I've been informed you had two again today. Would you like to explain this?"

"Two? Two? Wow that means I"m doing a lot better than I thought I was. It's amazing that I've not done more in a shorter period of time cuz sometimes I really can't help myself since I have to race against the clock-although I really don't know why I feel it's necessary to beat the clock but it's there and always reminding me things have to be done cuz you know, Ultra Magnus hates waiting for anything. So I'm delighted it's only two violations, not three or four, aren't you?" He ended his monologues with a debonair smile.

But Optimus was not impressed. He paused before answering. "Blurr, over this three-month period, your reckless driving has cost our operation $15,700. That's in three months."

"Sorry."

"Your allowance only allots three thousand monthly. That means I'd have to pay the county, city AND state and allow you to pay back."

Blurr's jaw dropped and nothing came from his mouth.

Prime continued. "I understand you're still paying on charges from five months ago."

Blurr shrugged. "Yeah that doesn't leave much of anything I mean I can't buy music, polish, 3-D puzzles or road maps so I can navigate cross-country places where there's not a lot of traffic. 'It's really frustrating that I can't get these things cuz I really like to do stuff when I'm not delivering between Metroplex and other places and nobody wants to let me use their puzzles cuz I solve them so fast. I mean I really can't help it, I honestly can't it's just something I'm really good at and I really enjoy doing it cuz the closer I get to the finish, the faster I go and the faster I go-"

Blurr went on and on about puzzles while Optimus' mind drifted. He did not want to be here. He did not want to do this.

Was this all his life was about?

" ... and Optimus are you doing okay? Cuz if this is a bad time for you, I can come back to discuss all this later, if you'd like, it's not a big deal to me, really, honest!"

Optimus came back and his optics darkened. "It's a big deal to me, Blurr. So here's what we're going to do: for ninety days there will be no excursions outside Metroplex. No races, no challenges. You will scrape, wash and polish every square inch of city sidewalks and you will be put into transformation lock for three weeks."

It could not be possible for Blurr to drop his face any further if his head fell off. "What? What?! You cannot possibly be serious! No transforming for three weeks? I've never had that happen to me! I don't understand-and no races, either? You're grounding me from the roadways? This isn't fair, Optimus! I've never had to-"

"That's my point exactly, Blurr. You've never had to. One way or another you're going to learn to be responsible for your actions."

Blurr actually walked _slowly_ out the office. He looked like someone just killed his best friend.

After taking a break late that evening, Optimus reviewed Steeljaw's secret report. Initially, Steeljaw found the chamber layout staged not as a chamber, but more like a theater; curved and raked with all seats facing the front of the chamber rather than seating along opposing walls, facing the center of the room. Steeljaw also reported construction underneath the chamber and a passage leading to an underground room of unnatural proportions.

Optimus set it aside for further review. He felt certain, however, he already knew what was going on.

Laboring over the rest of the work, Optimus poured through requests and complains filed by Humans and Autobots. Two people complained about Ultra Magnus' intense training, saying his manner of teaching was incompatible with their personal religious beliefs.

Optimus reassigned them to lower city maintenance which always needed help and wrote them letters of disqualification from EDC. If they could not handle the training, they could not be a part of the organization.

Five complaints regarding Twin Twist crossed three digipads, all of which registered two weeks ago. That was Prong'S fault. He always procrastinated. Optimus sent Prong a second note regarding his idleness and scheduled his department for audit in two weeks.

An odd report regarding Rodimus popped up next. Something about private conversations with someone known as One-Face. The report was signed by Smoke Screen and addressed to Alpha Trion.

A visitor chimed at Optimus' door but he ignored it, reading then rereading the brief report. It indicated time and place and a few words such as Humans, shipment and packages. Nothing more because Smokescreen could not hear Rodimus and One-Face over an on-coming truck.

The door chimed again.

Was One-face a Decepticon? Or maybe a Human working under cover? Rodimus enjoyed assisting police departments when asked. It allowed him time from his own duties and gave the Autobots good public relations.

The door chimed a third time then an impatient hand knocked.

Optimus stared at the doors. Arcee stood on the other side, bearing a digipad. "Enter," he granted.

She scoffed as her hips swayed side to side. "It's about time! Was out there for half an hour."

Optimus stared at her then through her and struggled to correct his vision. A silky garment swept about the femme's body as though it made love to her. She set the digipad on his desk then crossed her arms, daring. "Well?"

He picked up the tablet. "Did you need me to sign something?"

"No! I said I was standing-" she cut herself off and a smile calmed her features. "I mean, I was hoping to -to find Magnus. Have you seen him?"

Optimus gazed from the digipad to the slender, sleek femme. "No, Arcee. I've not seen Magnus all day."

"I see." she sighed as the director attached her digipad to a master and transferred her reports. "Optimus," she said, her voice silky. "Don't you ever get lonely sitting in this huge room all by yourself?"

He did not so much as look at her. Arcee lifted her arms and arched her back, revealing her pearl-white midriff. "My goodness," she moaned. "I get _so_ board! I'd be willing to just... plug into any outlet, just for fun. Wouldn't you?" she giggled at her own joke then helped herself to the same corner of Optimus' desk as her father sat on. Optimus stared. She reached out and picked up an empty digipad. "You know, I just love Ultra Magnus. He's incredibly brawny and enticingly strong. But sometimes he's so bullheaded and just... Arcee sighed again and set the tablet back, pretending that Optimus sat fixated. She leaned over slightly, her hand palming the desk. "I think he forgets that a lady needs a softer touch. Someone who knows how to be passionate and gentle at the same time."

Arcee slid along Optimus' desk. Tablets tumbled in all directions as she laid on her side, staring at him. The femme planted a finger between her lip components. She stared expectantly at Optimus the removed her finger.

He stared.

"you know, Optimus, Magnus once told my father something about you. It was a little mean and I told him so. He thinks you should have stayed dead, that by coming back to life, you've destroyed your own image and made Roddi look more like a babysitter than an Autobot leader. Ha! Magnus once suggested you should be locked away and saved as an ornament for parades or other celebrations. I'm sure he was only joking. Magnus says a lot of stuff... like how ridiculous it is for you to be doing half of Rodimus' job when he's out racing or partying with his friends."

Arcee giggled, rolled to her back and kicked up her feet. "I LOVE your desk! It's SO big and roomy! You could sleep on it!"

Optimus stared, withholding disgust from his expression. Arcee laid her hands over her midriff then arched her back and raised her legs. She cast her optics on him. "Come on, Optimus, let's prove Magnus wrong. I'll bet you're a better love machine than he could ever be!" she spread her knees and arched her back again.

He just stared.

Arcee gazed at him again. "Well?" she waited, "Are you shy? I guess you've not... you know, been with anyone in a long time."

He had, but not the way Arcee expected. He loved, but not like she did.

"Don't worry," Trion's daughter promised, "I won't say a word. So, come on, come up here with me."

Optimus recalled the last dream he had of Rusti.

Arcee grew impatient. "You know, I don't have all night." She sat up, perplexed and a little annoyed. "What is _wrong_ with you? Aren't you going to say anything?" she watched him watch her. He did not so much as twitch.

Arcee proposed physical bonding as a means of love. Optimus viewed her intentions as usury and potential blackmail. The Matrix considered her seduction disgusting.

"Pffp! Fine, whatever." Arcee snatched back her digipad and hopped off the desk. "Hope you're happy with yourself." she paused at the door and faced him as she opened it. "You really are creepy, you know that?"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

WHITE OUT

I forced Perceptor to swear secrecy before dragging my 'Quintesson Special' across his examination table. Perceptor balked and flinched.

"Come on!" I demanded. "I don't have a lot of time. I need answers before he's found missing!"

"Rodimus, this is very unlike you."

"Yeah, yeah. I've turned into the Big Bad Wolf. I don't think it's a real Quintesson. He-or it-can shape-change."

That was enough to tantalize Perceptor. He grabbed all his science toys and worked over the body for two hours before drawing a good guess.

"You're half right, Rodimus, it's half Quintesson and something else I've not seen except in ancient manuals."

"Another species?"

"Negative. What we have is half a Quintesson body and half nano-technology. Apparently, the nanites have been trained or programmed to 'fill in' parts of the body. We see eight tentacles, but in fact there are only four. My guess is this Quintesson can activate them at will or command."

"Experiment, then?"

"I'm afraid not." Perceptor replied with disgust. "Historically speaking, the Quintessons are known to utilize nano technology to replace maimed extremities or control disease. This skill to alter their structure is rare-not inconceivable-but certainly not to this extent, either."

"Gosh, teacher, why's that?"

Perceptor ignored my sarcasm and ran another scan. "This extreme procedure results in host body disintegration a few years after the application. Cellular decay occurs due to rejection or the nanites simply die off."

It meant I was short on time. "So I don't suppose there's a way to find out where our slimy friend here got his plastic surgery, is there?"

Perceptor shook his head then met my optics. "Rodimus, there's only two possible places I'm aware of: a planet called Alcastor located in the Delta Sector along the Forbidden Territories and on Cybertron somewhere in the Phantom District."

"The Phantom District?" I repeated. "Why there?"

"Shockwave controlled a vast complex in that vicinity several megania ago. He conducted experiments of his own. I'd not be surprised if a few of them were spawned by Quintesson ideology. Naturally, the complex was raided and destroyed by Autobot rebels led by Sentinel Prime. However, there are no records indicating how much of the complex Sentinel actually destroyed. Chances are, you may find some answers there."

I stared at 'Grandma Modulus.' It looked like I'd have to take a day off, play hookie and snoop around someone else's backyard. "Perceptor, I want this and all evidence of it completely destroyed. Don't save anything; not even in your logs or journals."

"Rodimus?"

"You've been working on new solar cells all this time, haven't you?"

"Er-"

"_Haven't you?_"

"Yes. Of course!"

I gave him a stern look then departed to see Springer.

"What's that?" Springer's legs dangled from a platform under the landing gear of an Autobot cruiser. Not only was Springer my air force commander since SkyScraper's horrific death in 2005, but the wrecker also acted as Mr. Fixit for all our shuttles. All our cruisers and ships were like children to him. I made sure Springer got the honor of naming all new ships in Autobot City.

"You heard me. Cybertron. Phantom District. Now."

His legs disappeared and his head came out the landing shaft and hung upside down. "Are you asking me on a date, Roddi-boy?"

I smiled wryly. "It'll be undercover, no radio contact and dangerous."

"Oh! You mean _covert_! Well, why didn't you say so?" Springer disappeared under his landing gear then hopped down and wiped his hands. "Well, I still need to take the White Out here for a test-ride. Gosh, Roddi, you wouldn't happen to have time for a test-run in my newly-repaired ship, would you?"

I smiled.

We settled in newly-installed reclining chairs. I took up navigation while Springer took helm. I'd never dream of running _his_ ship.

The wrecker preset thrusters. "Metroplex control, this is the White Out. Permission to depart for test run. Over?"

"Great day for soaring high in the sky, White Out How is it hanging, Springer?" Blaster's voice came out the com channels far too cheerfully. I could never fake that much enthusiasm. Springer and I shared frowns.

"Uh, hopefully _nothing_'s hanging anywhere off my ship, Blaster."

"Gotchya on the rise, White Out. And you're A-okay for lift-off! Wind's moving at seven knots, south-by-southeast. Happy crusin'!"

Springer poured on the juice and we shot out, twisted half way and zipped off Earth's atmosphere. Springer let out a yelp of excitement as we approached the moon.

"Drop out of sight, Springer," I ordered. "I don't want anyone tracking us." He looked at me, suspicious. "Covert," I answered his unspoken question.

"Yeah, but aren't we supposed to, you know, sort of _declare_ we're here? We could hit someone."

"No. Just drop into sub-orbit and swing around to the trade route. You can hit warp from there."

Stubborn as myself, Springer pulled the White Out to a complete halt, turned to face me entirely and stared like a desert stone. "The trade routes?" he snarled. "The _trade routes_? Are you trying to stir trouble?"

"No."

"Then what the-"

"Springer, I don't have a lot of time."

He shrugged. "You're the boss."

Springer dropped the White Out and we slipped under the moon's southern region to avoid the lunar colonies altogether. He eased the ship into 'shadow space,' areas not marked as safe travel paths. Closing on the Venusain orbit, Springer tipped the ship along her right axis point and we maneuvered onto a highway system lined only by subspace buoys. Each of these buoys produced a short-wave, anti-protonic pulsar of rubidium and cybertonium. Not visible to Human eyes, but very pretty to Transformer optical sensors.

The second we 'surfaced' on the trade route, a ship, clearly displaying the Decepticon sigil appeared as if from nowhere and hailed us.

"This is Merthyr of Decepticon Space Control. Declare yourselves."

Springer flinched at the soft sound of a Decepticon femme's voice. I grinned. "Merthyr! This is Roddi. I'm hanging out here with Springer on the White Out. Sorry we didn't request clearance earlier. We're out on a scavenger hunt to Cybertron and I didn't want anyone else to know that I'm taking the day off. How's stuff?"

"Stuff." It was actually a question, but Decepticon 'ladies' operated on a strict diet of logic. She tried to quantify and translate my greeting.

"Yeah," I returned. "Just thought I'd be polite, exchange pleasantries. That sort of thing."

"I see. Very well, then, Rodimus Prime. How is Optimus?"

"Op's doing swell, Merthyr. Thanks. Say, our destination is Cybertron, the Phantom Zone. Do you think you can sorta, I dunno, not mention our tet-a-tet out this way?"

"I may have to report your presence to traffic control, but I'm sure Cyclonus will not mind the secrecy."

"We 'reach', Merthyr. Are we special?"

"Hmph." She found our conversation amusing.

"Yes, Rodimus," her velvet voice returned in pleasant tones, "exceedingly 'special'. Enjoy your time on Cybertron."

Springer shook his head in disbelief and punched in coordinates to our homeworld. I sat back and listened to Springer's music with mild interest. Radee-On, a music group from Iaacon, scored big across Cybertron. They were okay. Not Metallica-okay, but okay.

Even by Autobot standards, Cybertron floated a good distance from Earth. Sitting between Neptune and Uranus, Cybertron's orbit kicked around the sun in a wide-angle elliptical orbit. At least our planet _had_ an orbit. Before Megatron pulled his little stunt and teleported the planet to the Sol system, our hapless world floated through space like a metallic tumbleweed. In a strange and twisted way, Megatron actually did us a favor.

Something hit my arm and I stirred from a nap. I did not realize I drifted.

Springer glanced at me. "Morning, sleepy-head. Cybertron's on the horizon. Better buckle up."

I just sat there and stared out the screen. It was nice to sleep without dreams of Trion hunting me down and peeling my exostructure as though it were animal skin and sinking his teeth into me. No, Trion does not have teeth, but in my dreams, he certainly did.

Checking my chronometer, I deduced it was about nine-fifteen A.M. on Earth. Op was probably up and getting his wake-me juice.

"Hey, Springer." I greeted.

"Hey."

"You know, I need to drag Op away from all his Earthly duties and take him to the park or something."

"Uh-huh. Don't know how you'd manage to sneak him out undetected. Grandpa Trion will want to know all the details-and a postcard while you're away."

"Grandpa Trion?! Ewwe!" now I was awake. Springer snorted in laughter as I plucked out a few energon chips from subspace and downed them.

"Well, there's ways around him. You got that cloak from what's-his-name, don't you?"

"_She_," I corrected. "Ambassador Elch Th'yinion. And yeah, I do. Two of them."

"Well, there you are."

"Yup," I agreed, "and there's an Autobot space cadet coming in at ten o'clock. Gridiron, from the looks of it."

Springer evaded the scout by dipping behind an old abandoned freighter. We shut everything down; power, lights, communications, and just let the White Out float. Gridiron made the usual scouting rounds, examining only what was obvious and paid no attention to his scanners at all-if he even used them.

We waited a solid twenty minutes for the all-clear then Springer swung around the planet and spiraled into Cybertron's dead zone airspace. Usually this was not a good idea. But since nothing else flew in that sector (or so we hoped), it was safe to make a 'drop-dip' entry.

As a whole, Cybertron still recovered from Unicron's terrible onslaught eighty-plus Earth years ago. A full one-quarter of the planet was not habitable, leaving huge pocket regions unguarded where anyone could sneak onto the planet without being seen.

I wanted to assign guardians and combiner teams to those areas. But the Defense Administration insisted they'd do it _their_ way; that Cybertron was essentially not my concern. Out-voted, I protested. They pulled several political strings and accused me of bullying, and applying tyrannical actions. They even tried to imply that I acted like a Decepticon.

I fought legalities and political campaigns until one day I found Swoop dead at my quarter's door. Two weeks later, Wheelie died of a highway accident. Bumblebee died of a bomb supposedly left by the Decepticons during Megatron's rule. Grimlock ended up in repair bay. We managed to save him, but after Swoop's death, he was not quite the same.

In each instance, we found no proof of tampering or sabotage. I wasn't fooled, but could not prove a dammed thing. I'm also smart enough to acknowledge there are spies in Metroplex. I take them down whenever, wherever and however I can, but I don't always succeed.

Arcee spies for her Daddy Dearest. I also know Sixshit's involved. That's a no-brainer. Twin Twist; another no-brainer. And I would not be surprised if Trion has paid a number of humans to spy for him.

Primus, I worry for Optimus.

Springer flew low and slow along the roads and valleys of a dead city. It always made me sad to see the 'deserts' on Cybertron. To think that the entire planet once supported life at every level and surface seems more like a fairy tale or a far-fetched dream.

A series of rounded, squatting buildings rose along the horizon. All of them twisted at least twice as they rose off the surface like mechanical alien mushrooms.

"Here, Springer," I said quietly, "This will do."

"We're still twenty miles out, Rod."

"All the better."

Springer set the White Out down and I checked my rifle. "You gonna stay with the car or did you wanna come along?"

"No, I'll come along," the wrecker answered in kind. "Wait, you did say it could be dangerous, right?" I nodded. "Yeah, I'm comin' but I gotta let you know, Roddi, I'll be your potty pal, but not your body guard."

We stepped out, transformed and headed for the ancient complex at a careful speed. I did not want to look conspicuous, whether or not anything lived here. Besides that, the hostile terrain aggravated us with gaping holes, hidden spikes and deep trenches.

"Okay, Mr. Leader," Springer teased. "What are we looking for?"

"Hah. You know me, Springer. I'll know it when I see it."

"I _knew_ you were going to say that."

We crossed the distance in a twenty-minute drive. The level on which we drove cut off at the half-mile point to the complex. The bridge crossing a huge canyon collapsed some time in the past. It created a great gulf between us and our destination. Springer sighed.

"I suppose I could just heft you over there."

"No," I objected. "No flying." We glanced everywhere and just when I guessed Springer was right, I spotted a control center a good half mile from our position. I tagged my companion. "Come on. Let's try it this way."

Picking our way over fallen buildings, ancient crashed aircraft and the remains of creatures I'd never guess, we approached the control dias for an energy bridge. None of the controls were written in either Autobot or Decepticon.

Springer fingered the controls. "I don't like this. Looks too new to be ancient. I mean, it looks like someone recently built it."

"Mm. And password-protected, too, I'll bet."

"You sure you don't wanna fly over?"

Before I answered, the control panel lit up and a bridge materialized and stretched toward us from the other side of the canyon. I grabbed Springer by the helm and dragged him several yards to the right. We ducked around an old, rusted wall and peeked between cracks. The bridge lit everything in white and yellow as it completed its connection.

The distant hum of an antigrav vehicle whirred louder as it drew near. Springer yanked me down when we spotted two Quintesson lords. On board their land cruiser sat their pet sharks and an Autobot whom I automatically knew as Kliker. The Quintessons spoke with rumbling voices moaning in ancient verbiage. To my displeasure, Kliker spoke to them in their native language. I hoped he was a victim and not some schmuck volunteer.

They paused at the bridge. Two Sharkticons proceeded their blobby masters. Kliker followed and two Sharkticons tailed the procession. I waited, daring not to breathe. But I could not help but creep out, scrunching like a coilworm among the rubble. Springer followed. All I heard from my friend was the soft crunch of foot and knee across the ground. Inch to inch we crept toward the bridge. Never have I been so grateful Sharkticons haven't near the instincts of either Ravage or Steeljaw.

Now the Quintesson party reached half way. I knew the moment they touched ground at the other side, the bridge before us would vanish. I _had_ to find out what lay at the other side of the yellow brick road. Was Kliker victim or volunteer? I had to find out if Grandma Modulus originated from here. And more than all that, I had to find out how Quintessons so freely traveled my home world.

I gazed at Springer whose body coiled as tightly as mine; a spring ready to snap; a snake ready to strike. We did not have to say a word, we just knew.

_Move_! I wanted to shout at the Quintesson party. It's ridiculous and funny to want the Quints to hurry to the other side as opposed to falling off the bridge in a nice and disgusting splat. Actually, I don't blame the Quintessons for being here. Nope. I knew exactly whom to blame-and if I ever get the opportunity-

There! The procession finally made it and I counted twenty seconds before Springer and I leapt onto the bridge, transformed and raced against the dissolving conjunction.

"You'd better be ready for a fight," I told my pilot and companion.

"You did say it'd be dangerous," Springer reminded. "Otherwise, I'd have to charge you a boredom fee."

We poured on the accelerant just as the bridge faded from reality. Only our momentum kept me and Springer from falling into the chasm far below.

I must have gotten a portion of Op's good luck because just as we smacked metal ground, the Quintesson club disappeared behind heavy doors. They heard and saw nothing-or at least appeared to see and hear nothing.

Springer and I lay flat where we hit ground, staying motionless as we expected guards and flood lights, cyberdogs and motion detectors all pop up like mechanical meerkats at a fair.

The world and the air and the tall buildings before us remained ever soundless; a sprout of inactivity in a graveyard in the middle of a lifeless desert. I hated this place. I actually thought death hung in the air and sprawled along the ground. The darkness of the Phantom District stirred the Matrix so that it cursed the deadness and receded into memories far more ancient than the lives of most Autobots.

The Matrix cursed the Quintessons. It cursed someone named Hydra Liege. Then it cursed Alpha Trion. I winced and slightly shook my head to regain concentration. Twenty minutes. Thirty. Forty-five. I half-moved, rising just enough to see if motion sensors guarded the place.

Springer's optics flared but he wisely kept quiet. I rose a bit more and moved my head.

No response.

I sat on my knees, scanned left, right, up, right, down and right again. Moving to my haunches, I examined the semi-spiral constructs. No windows. Not surprising, really. Not much to see.

Springer flat out stood up and I followed with a frown. I used to be less cautious than I am now. But after a few really bad incidents with the Terrorcons, I learned that rash can be fun but costly. Nodding right, I led toward the tallest of five Quintesson structures. As we neared the doorways, it occurred to me how these buildings could not have been built just in the last year or two; they must have been here for quite a while. That thought made my fuel boil. How was I ever supposed to nail this on the Defense Administration?

The doors swung, slowly drawing back and Springer and I leapt off the road into rubble, debris and ancient wreckage. A pair of trucks rolling on spiked metal wheels rumbled past us. their engines pounded the air with old sounds of pistons and unkept crankshafts. The trucks were not Cybertronian in origin; more like a hybrid between an Earth construct and something concocted from a third-grader's science fair. I wanted to laugh at them, but the mission pulled me toward more important affairs.

Springer and I dashed over wreckage, making way too much noise. We ducked when another pair of trucks thundered out. I wanted to know what they carried.

Later, I promised myself.

We plowed through debris and reached the giant doors just as they started lowering for the thudding closure. I went ahead of Springer just in case we'd run into trouble. I could hear Magnus and Kup scolding me for blunt recklessness, but Springer's life was ... well, more important.

He caught up with me and gave me the dirtiest look. Ignoring Mister I'm-Not-your-Babysitter, I pointed right and we transformed and switched to silent mode. We passed one corridor after another and rolled another level up.

What I was looking for, I hadn't a clue but I knew we couldn't go sight-seeing too much longer. Eventually someone was going to find us.

Before we encountered anyone, however, I spotted a vestibule leading to a balcony. "Here," I said to Springer. We transformed and entered its dark mouth. A railing met us at the other side and we peered into the next level down where hundreds of Humans, Sharkticons, a few Quintessons and an occasional Autobot worked along huge, long assembly lines. That was just one area. Another section contained a physical training course, complete with Human instructors teamed with single-faced Quintessons. And yet another section resembled a shipping-and-receiving area where Humans in exosuits and Sharkticons stacked giant pyramids of crates.

Springer's face twisted in bewilderment. "What the heck are they shipping?"

I shook my head. "You can be sure it's not something from Hickory Farms."

"They look well-fed," Springer observed. "And they don't look too unhappy.

I was not so convinced. Quintessons have never been known for their good, well-meaning and gracious nature.

The pattern of metal footsteps caused me and Springer to spin about, expecting security guards-or worse-one of our own. When we saw nothing, I lifted my optics toward the ceiling and laid a finger over my lip components. Pointing to the ceiling, and thereby the balcony above, I crouched and crawled as close to the edge as I dared.

The first voice, clearly Quintesson, surprised me by speaking English. "Ahh, I am pleased you two have returned from Metroplex. How goes things?"

"Difficult."

I and Springer both about lost our optics in shock. That was _Smokescreen!_ No! I thought-and I clammed my hand over my mouth to keep it shut. No, no, no! Why?

"What seems to be the problem?" the Quintesson's voice dripped with monotone, cold as the world outside.

"Rodimus Prime is absent again. We do not know how he left the city or where he went."

"What of Optimus?"

_Cliffjumper_ answered and I swallowed all my words. No. NO! WHY?! What promises did they accept in exchange for their loyalty? What did I do-or fail to do-that caused them to work for... maybe they were given no choice. I shut my optics, hoping against the facts, against the odds.

"Optimus remains stubborn as ever." Cliffjumper reported. "I told you he'd never betray Rodimus."

Smokescreen's calm, collected voice rang again. "Rodimus Prime may be with the Decepticons again. He has been spotted on occasion en route to Trapesius."

"We must be certain," the Quint insisted.

Smokescreen bucked the underhanded order: "every time either you or the Administration has sent someone to follow Rodimus _they_ end up either shredded or they've disappeared entirely. It's clear the Decepticons both support and protect Rodimus Prime. If you plan to assist in Trion's coup, then you will need to create a defense against Decepticon retaliation."

"You, Smokescreen, obviously overestimate your old enemies. The Decepticons' greed will destroy them for us. They are gullible, easily deceived and will fall apart with next to no effort on our part."

"I dunno," Cliffjumper countered carefully. "So far Cyclonus has kept the Decepticons on a tight leash."

"You underestimate our alliance with the Autobot Defense Administration," the Quint returned confidently. "Together, we will secure a meaningful and prosperous future. All we need to do is eliminate the present Autobot administration and to do that, we must set them up for rejection. We must discredit them in front of the Autobots. Return to Mars and inform them to the next shipment will be ready in five days."

I felt sick and mercifully enough, the morbid conversation ended. I wanted to puke my 'guts' out. How many other Autobots have surrendered their freedom to work with the Quintessons? I grew up with Cliffjumper and Smokescreen. How could they do this? I rolled over to get on my feet but grief kept me down. I felt like someone punched me directly in the thorax.

"Hey!" Springer's voice came to me but it sounded as if I were in a box with him outside trying to speak through the cardboard. Springer helped me to my knees and I slumped.

"Roddi," he said again, "I know it's a real blow but we can't stay here. Come on." Springer dragged my pathetic body to its feet and I half-walked, half-dragged myself, slumping against him like a wounded soldier devoid of strength or will.

Springer supported me until I found my resolve. It took a lot to remember that the Quintesson was dead-ass wrong about Cyclonus. I hoped somehow my friendship with the Decepticons might be a serious detriment to Trion and his piranha pool. I also took comfort that they could not crack Optimus. He was a thorn in their side and I could not wait to get back to Metroplex and find out what he's been up to.

Finally I took in a good deep breath and stood straight. Meeting Springer's optics, I wondered about his loyalties. Was he a spy? Was he a friend only for the moment? "Thanks, Springer, I guess the shock-"

"I know." he acknowledged. "I gotta get you home."

The phrase struck me odd because I knew Springer meant Earth, although Cybertron was our home planet. He was right; Earth was home.

"Home sounds good," I agreed. "But first, I want to destroy this operation. If they're doing what I think they're doing here, then we need to cut this end of the snake."

Springer dragged me to a secluded corner. "What is WRONG with you?!" he whispered harshly. "There are Humans here!"

"And there will be more of them unless we destroy this place. I don't _want_ to do it. I _have_ to. If you knew what I know what's going to happen to the Humans here, believe me, you'd agree-"

"Then let's find a way to save them-"

"Springer!" my voice shot out before I caught it and I clamped my hand over my face and prayed no one heard. The two of us peered round the corner. Only the dim lighting, the empty hall met us. We resumed the argument: "Springer, how by Primus do you expect us to carry out an unknown number of heavily-guarded Humans? Even IF I could stash them in the back of my trailer, you can't just pack them in like a can of mackerel! Humans have to _breathe_!"

He stared at me with lost hope, his despair reflected mine. "You're saying we have to kill-we have to kill everyone here-"

"-to save everyone else?" I finished. "Yes."

He turned away then swung back. "They're not Decepticons! They're not-" his optics skittered to avoid mine. I'd not seen Springer so visibly upset. I never realized how much Springer valued life. Not just his own, but life in general. He steeled his optics on me. "I _hate_ your job!"

We stole through the first building then snuck into the second, finding much the same but at a more intense pace. Sharkticons came and went, often led by single-faced Quintessons. The second building, however, housed more electronic supplies geared for the complex on Mars. The two of us peek-a-booed through several rooms stuffed with crates. We sampled one selection after another until I found exactly what I was hoping to find; explosives.

I tossed one such 'puppy' to Springer. "Never leave your homeworld without one," I joked.

"There's no timer on these things, Rodimus."

"So? We'll set one up."

"I left my pocket watch on Earth."

I took back the explosive, stabbing Springer with an annoyed expression. "Watch and learn from the expert, Oh Ye Of Little Imagination."

Studying the one explosive, I calculated thirty of them would do the job right nicely, as long as I linked them to the building's electrical system. We lasered a panel out of one wall where I tapped into power cords and communication lines. From there, I dismantled my external communicator, my short-range weapon and two energon goodies as delayed power sources.

Springer watched, dubious but impressed with my skill. "Who taught you how to do all this?"

"Nobody. It's a Prime-thing, Grasshopper. When you are forced to survive time spent with the Twins, you have to improvise, keep your wits about you or end up as the aft-side of their pranks."

"Then it WAS you who rigged their guns to backfire and spray them with guano!"

Shit-eating grin.

"Oh no," Springer moaned. "Were you also responsible for rewiring their quarters-"

"To broadcast them live over the net and on special access TV? Guilty as charged." I connected the last explosive to the train of destruction carefully calculated to foil Quintesson exploits.

Springer grinned approvingly. "I guess I should not be surprised. I do wonder, however, how you managed to pull stuff like that without getting caught."

I eyed him, my lip components lined straight. "I did get caught, Springer. I just never got into trouble. Op fessed up to me a couple days ago. I think, Springer, you'd be shocked to learn that he knew a hell of a lot more of what was going on than he let on. Like me, I guess. I mean ..." I sighed and slumped. "You know, I'm so distracted by all the stuff going on that I can't concentrate on what I really need to do. As a Prime, I mean. I can't keep track of things like I need to. Do you not realize that I'm supposed to know what's going on at any time, at any place on Cybertron and Metroplex? Do you know that? But I can't. I'm-I'm so distracted and so worried; everything is so messed up ... I can't do my job. I can't take care of the Autobots. I can't-" Casting my gaze elsewhere, I forced my frustration into working faster.

"Not to worry, Roddi. We'll fix it. The CDA can't replace you. After all, you have allies and good friends. I'm sure when the time comes, they'll be there to get us out of a jam."

I appreciated his optimism. "Cyclonus?" I asked. "Wish you could meet him, Springer. I mean _really_ meet him. Under that Mr. Spock exterior vibrates the core of a really cool guy."

Springer shrugged. "Well, I was thinking more of Ambassador Elch Th'yinion. What was so special about those cloaks she gave you, anyway?"

My face spread into a pleased smile. "Nuthin' Springer; just a couple of really big curtains with pretty colors." He stared, hoping for a more detailed answer. But when I clammed up, Springer shrugged and dropped the topic. I stood and stretched. "Fifteen minutes and counting. And you know, I think it's a good idea to leave about now." I stared at my handiwork, confident it'll do the job.

"Okay." Springer turned about face and started out. "Hopefully we can sneak out as easily as-." He stopped in mid sentence and I waited for him to finish. Instead, he slowly back-tracked toward me.

I shook my head and started toward the exit myself when abruptly I came face to face with Smokescreen. I froze as conflicting emotions tore me inside. "Smokescreen," I greeted with a surprised voice. I did not need to look down to see his weapon trained on me.

"Well, this is not how I ever wanted things to happen, Rodimus." he said grimly.

"Me too," I squeaked. "Y-you're not where you're supposed to be."

"True," he nodded. "But then, neither are you."

"So, what do we do, Smokescreen? I can't say that I approve of your new selection of friends. I'll have to talk with them about Autobot protocol and trespassing on Cybertron-"

"You know, Rodimus," he cut in, "This really upsets me. It means I'll have to invent some story for Optimus now. Something to the effect that you were caught dabbling in business you tried to keep secret from him. I'm sure it'll upset him. But he will recover."

I did not bother answering. Kicking the gun out his hand, I followed through with a bang to Smokescreen's chin. Being the tempered warrior, Smokescreen rebounded and drilled into my chest. I smacked the nearest wall and chopped his shoulders at the base of his neck. He partly crumbled and I introduced him to my knee.

Springer unsheathed out his deadly sword and leapt to my rescue.

"No!" I objected, a hand held against my companion. "You can't!"

"Rodimus!"

"He's still an Autobot!"

That cost me. Smokescreen nailed me hard in the back. Springer and I collided into a steel crate. Smokescreen leapt. I rolled out of his path and whacked my elbow into 'Screen's chest then kicked him in the side. Hefting my weight on the crate's top, I rolled backward and landed behind the pile of rubble while Springer scrambled away, retrieving his sword. "Smokescreen," I backed off. "Don't force me to fight you."

He rose, wincing, his hand pressed against the damage in his side. "Rodimus, it's too late. It's been too late for you for a long, long time. How about you just surrender and I take you to Contrara?"

"First of all, she hates me. Secondly, how about you just come with us. we can work this out."

"No." He retrieved his weapon and set it to kill. "Your world doesn't exist anymore, Rodimus. I'm really sorry. But Alpha Trion was right. It's time the Autobots learned to adapt a more democratic way of thinking. We don't _need_ a Prime. We've moved past that stage in our evolution."

"A bit _sudden_ an evolution, isn't it, Smokescreen?" I dared a half-step left. "I mean, the Matrix still considers us its progeny; its responsibility."

"The Matrix is an alien artifact, Rodimus. Look, just come with me and -and I'll see if I can arrange it so that you're not harmed."

"Over Trion's road-kill carcass would he ever agree-" I dodged the first shot. Smokescreen aimed for Springer and grazed the Triplechanger's shoulder. I tackled and the two of us smashed into a tower of crates and boxes. I wrestled for Smokescreen's weapon while he fired it three more times. Sirens split the air with screams and the complex beat with the pounding of alerted Sharkticons.

Kicking the gun out of his hand, my fist rose to pummel someone I once considered a friend. When I hesitated he struck me. Even with damage to my left shoulder, a slight dent in the back, I could not believe I fought someone I trusted, someone I cared about.

Smokescreen clambered to his feet. I scooted back, reluctant to stand. He inched toward me.

"Smokescreen," I called with a broken voice. "We can't be doing this. Don't make me. Don't make me." I almost could not hear myself above the wailing alarms.

He brought forth his shoulder-mounted rockets. "Hold still. It's already over."

My aft it was. I waited point zero four more seconds then jumped to my haunches and launched as the rocket shot. The shockwave snapped Smokescreen across the room. He smacked the far wall and disappeared behind another collection of crates.

Springer's voice called above the thunder. Unable to answer, I grieved bitter over a friend lost to political schemes. Smokescreen rejected me not just as a leader, but as a friend. I became nothing to him. Sorrow enfeebled me so that when Springer shouted again I still could not reply. The howling alarms mocked me. Springer yelled again and tried to contact me via internal comlines. I simply could not answer.

A strong hand caught my right foot and dragged me several yards. My resolve snapped back into place and I kicked out of Smokescreen's grip.

"Springer!" I cried between wailing alarms. "Where are you? Springer!" A metal box belted my left shoulder and I smacked the floor a bit too hard. Dizzy and slightly disoriented, I rolled to my knees. A set of hands grabbed the edges of my spoiler before gifting me with a right-cross. I used the impact to roll backward and reoriented my scanners so that I caught Smokescreen's next attempt. Grappling him at the audios, I yanked him down then dragged him up and body-slammed him into a line of crates. No matter how much I wanted to deny the reality, I faced the fact that he was in control of his faculties. He knew what he was doing. He accepted lies and falsehoods. I struck him. I felt the pain. He punched with all his might. He kicked and swore and growled, meaning to break my body, meaning to end my life. I slammed his head into the floor and wept. I hurt. Each time I smashed his head, I felt his pain and wept more.

The precious light of life faded from his optics. He lay still. His life blood crept along the floor and through tears, I spotted my reflection, incriminating me.

"We have to go."

Springer's voice sounded as though it were millions of miles away. I could not move. I did not want to move. I wanted to lie down and die next to Smokescreen. I wanted to find him in the world beyond death and tell him how so very sorry I was.

"I-I can't," I managed. "Springer, I can't. I killed... I killed him. I KILLED HIM!!"

Springer stared me in the optics. "He was going to do the same thing to you _and_ to Optimus. Would you rather have that instead?"

I hoped to die soon. I did not protest when Springer hauled me off Smokescreen's prone form. Springer dragged me out the room, down the hall and into another room while a collection of Sharkticons marched by, heedless of our energy signatures.

Trembling, I slumped against the wall and tried to gather myself together. We were in big trouble. The explosives I set gave us but six more minutes. "You'll have to fly," I told my friend, my voice barely audible. "Springer, you'll have to fly out to get out of here in time."

"Not leaving you." he whispered back.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it DOES!"

"No-"

He shot me a venomous look. "Hiya, Springer," he said, sounding a bit like Kup, "seen Rodimus anywhere? Oh, sure, Kup. I left him on Cybertron where he committed suicide while I ran away from a fight with Sharkticons. Yeah, looks really good on my resume, doesn't it?" Guilt smothered me. I could not think. He gripped my upper arms. "Rodimus. Roddi. You could not do anything about Smokescreen. I'm sorry you did what you had to do. But you _had_ to do it. If not for your sake, then for _mine._ We have six minutes to get the jeebees out of here. Don't make me drag your sorry aft in front of Primus and everyone while cracking bad jokes to a crowd of Sharkticons!"

His little speech helped me orient to the moment. I could not save Smokescreen. But I could save Springer. I got him into this situation. Now I had to get him out. I was in command.

I also had to get back to Optimus.

New goal in mind, I set myself straight; get Springer out, get back to Optimus. Clear and simple. As I gathered my poise and self control, a troop of Sharkticons marched down the hall. Some loud-mouthed Quintesson bellowed above the crying sirens. I could not tell what was said, but the Sharkticons behaved like whipped dogs.

Another barking Quint called in from the other end of the hall and my optics darkened with dying hope. We had four minutes to escape this level in the building.

Springer whispered and beaconed me to peek through the crack under the door. "They're taking on transport crates!" the excitement in his voice gave me a slice of interest. I peered down, though all I saw were a array of Sharkticon feet and Quintesson tentacles.

The two Quints in question yelled at one another. An electric whip snapped and sizzled. I winced, remembering being at the receiving end of such a whip at one time. The whip cracked and a Sharkticon roared. It banged the wall to the room Springer and I hid in. The two of us fled from the door just as the same Sharkticon smashed into it. The door broke and the hapless Sharkticon tumbled in the blind dark.

_"Soktu, torkmauth, gobluku! Keprig slaug maugrid!"_ the cursing Quintesson beat the bumbling Sharkticon again and again. The electric whip crackled and snaked, delivering agony one strike after another. I almost felt sorry for the Shark.

_"Soktu, chipbul slaug! Gluku orin muge!"_

The indignant Quintesson stood in the doorway while two other Sharkticons helped the bungler to its feet. They rejoined the rest of the company and the Quintesson, momentarily satisfied, headed for the middle of the line. I waited, listening to Sharkticons march, their footfalls betraying the burdens they dragged and pushed through the corridor. One alarm finally subsided, relieving my throbbing head by a fraction. I dared a peek round the corner and watched the parade file past us. Crates and containers of all sizes and varying shapes convoyed beyond our position. Peeking between passing Sharkticons, I hailed Springer on our internal comlines: "_we can do this_," I said with confident overtones. _"We can just hitchhike on or under or in one of those bigger boxes."_

_"Swell,"_ Springer returned, _"boxed Autobot; cozy as a coffin."_

I ignored his sarcasm and scrunched down, waiting for just the right second. I knew if we could not find our way out now, we could kiss our lives good-bye. After the beating I took from Smokescreen, it seemed someone repaid us with the opportunity we needed. The Sharkticon train paused. I instantly grabbed Springer and we slipped into a crate with a half-opened door. We scrunched in just as the train pressed forward again.

Twenty seconds.

The procession trounced down a stairwell.

Ten seconds.

Outside.

I slowly, silently shut the little door to our crate.

CHOOM! The explosion sounded as though Omega Supreme sneezed. The Quintessons freaked and squealed orders. They whacked their whips and Sharkticons worked faster. Springer and I clenched our mouths to keep from yelping as we were hefted, tossed and stacked. A second explosion frightened the Quintessons into a frenzy.

_"Dogere! Dogere!_" they screamed. The transport in which we hid activated and shot away as another explosion aggravated the illegal Quintesson activity.

I did not see anything, tucked safely away in a crate, in a transport speeding from the complex. But I knew my little make-shift bomb destroyed at least one building. I hoped for a domino effect. But I had to settle for far less. At least in the dark, Springer could not read my expression.

I came to find more information on 'Grandma Modulus' and instead, learned the gravity and extent of power wielded by the Defense Administration. Was I a fool for not finding out sooner? Or were they that good at covert operations? Was I so blind and so stupid that it took next to nothing for Trion and his party pack to roll right over me and take control?

I failed; flat out, undeniably, failed. What sort of dork allowed _anything_ like this to happen?

Springer spoke. Even with a low, quiet voice, the sound of it seemed to shout, "this wasn't your fault, Rodimus."

Did he mean that, or was he just offering me sympathetic platitudes? I bowed over, struck by a profound sense of failure and the horror that I murdered one of my own people. "Springer," I whispered, "this would not have happened to Optimus were he in charge."

"You're blaming yourself for something someone else did. You think you should be able to read everyone else's thoughts. Optimus couldn't do that. What makes you think you can?"

I couldn't answer him. I couldn't answer my own questions. I couldn't face myself. "Springer... Springer, he said that Trion said that the Matrix was an alien artifact. He made it sound so obsolete. So antiquated and unimportant. And, and it makes me wonder how many other Autobots have accepted that line of thought."

"Roddi," Springer's voice came gentle but a bit firm. "You can't afford to start doubting yourself or your place."

"It's not me, Springer. I mean, if the Autobots reject the Matrix... and my life is connected to the Matrix and they reject-" emotional overload refrained me from finishing the thought. Springer's hand caught my foot. He found my knee then my head, bowed in sorrow and shame.

"We're going to get you back to Metroplex. We'll figure this out. We just need to get home."

_"Your world doesn't exist anymore. We don't need a Prime. We've moved past that stage in our evolution."_ I felt sick and little by little, I shut down as blissful sleep lured me into a temporary realm where I forgot about Smokescreen, his words and his death.

I sat in Op's office, shivering with cold. My joints hurt. My fuel lines frosted with the onset of illness. Optimus sat calmly at his desk, paying little attention. He levitated digipads and data tablets above the desktop. They spun in a lazy circle. A couple of them flipped over and over. I did not understand why only the two pads flipped in the air.

Sending my gaze out Op's windows, the world outside changed into a universe of galaxies; millions of them. I tried to count them but the astonishing number made me sicker.

_"I'm so cold, Optimus. I keep crying. I don't know what's wrong with me."_

He fixed a gentle gaze on me. _"You're dying, Rodimus," _he said. _"And I have to send you to a new place."_

I stirred to life. The sadness returned, but oddly I felt lighter and clearer. The transport still journeyed across the dead land and I wondered how far we were from the White Out. I wondered if we'd even be able to escape. If so, we had to do it while still in the middle of nowhere.

"Springer?"

"An hour."

"Huh?"

"You've been sleeping for an hour and that means we're at least seventy miles from the complex."

"Are you reading my mind or something?"

"No," Springer answered simply. "It's just that I'd be asking the same questions."

"Okay. Good to know. So um, how about you and me get out of this lunch box and back to the ship?"

His keen blue optics fixed on me, expecting _me_ to act like the leader and do the dirty work. Taking the moment lightly I decided to do just that. I quietly opened the door and found the outside world just as dark. Switching to thermal vision, I discovered most crates and boxes around us sat empty. A few contained nondescript materials, tools and electronic fare. To my relief, no cargo-sitter attended the back of the transport. Sometimes I'd assign someone to keep an optic on items sent across the miles. But in the middle of Primus-knows-where, the Quintessons felt no threat.

With my recent 'handiwork', that would change.

Popping out and stepping-stone my way among the crates and boxes, I found the doorway. Springer copied and squatted next to me. His head roved up, down and around like an insect scoping out new surroundings. But he came to the same conclusions as I; a lock barred the door-and-gate system at the outside. Springer shook his head with a soft grunt.

"It's really not as hopeless and impossible as it looks," I said, meeting him with a wry smile.

"Are you planning another make-shift bomb?"

"Nah. I don't do reruns, Springer." climbing a short stack of boxes, I studied the upper hinge hugging the door-and-gate to the rest of the carrier. The hinge, rusted with use and scruffy with age, betrayed signs of fragility. All it needed was one wrong hit by a clumsy Sharkticon. Peering down, I tried to see if the hinge at the bottom bore the same symptoms. But lack of light kept me from seeing anything clear beyond basic shape and color.

"I'm gonna give it a shot," I told my friend. "We'll just have to hope that the driver isn't bright enough to know when something's been tampered with verses an accident."

To keep the damage looking like an accident at first glance, I refrained from using a weapon to shatter the hinges. Rather I used the butt of my weapon first, then Springer's sword to tear the hinge off. To my relief, the brittle bottom hinge fell apart in the matter of a couple of tries.

Delighted my plan worked, I did not consider how we'd get off the truck. That's one of those dumb little rules Prowl always tried to instill in me; always make sure you get out in one piece when you plan the escape. So I felt like an idiot when the door-and-gate swung clear of the truck and all the crates and boxes plopped, tumbled and slid out of control. Springer and I joined them. We crashed and crunched along the dark metal roadway as the transport continued on its merry way. The half-second I lost acceleration, I crept to the side of the cold, unlit road and dropped several feet out of sight. Springer followed. He fell further down and splashed into a liquid.

We clamped our mouths when the transport stopped, backed up several yards then parked. The driver and his buddy disembarked and stomped around, swearing like a miniature Ultra Magnus.

I swore internally. Specks and Plosivous; Autobots who worked under CDA member Orcus. That was it, then. It confirmed, in my head, that the CDA worked with the Quintessons.

"Hi, Avratel. Yeah, this is Specks. We have a slight problem out here. Those damned Sharkticons of yours have broken the hinges on the transport again. What are you yelling at _me_ for? I just drive the damned truck. Well, we're eighty miles out the middle of nowhere, thanks. Yeah, it means we'll be late. Well... get your dogs better training!"

The conversation ended and Specks and Plosivous retrieved and stacked all the boxes and crates their weight capacity handled. All the rest, the large, oddly-shaped stuff, had to wait for a rescue transport.

I froze where I lay, though I slumped in an uncomfortable position. I did not feel *quite* so badly about Smokescreen, seeing how these two also worked for the Quintessons. But I wondered what price bought them. I wondered if their lack of loyalty was my fault; that maybe my leadership was not charismatic enough, not strong enough to keep them from participating in an organization that I knew sooner or later chained them in slavery.

Was I that pathetic a leader, or was Trion just that much better? I think about the news reporters and how they can't get enough of him; how he simply exudes charm. I see right through his facade and it makes me ill to listen to his speeches. He opens a fresh can of used glop and the reporters lap it up. They wouldn't know the truth if it reared up and spit them in the optic.

Twenty minutes passed and a smaller transport joined our 'Greyhound'. From what I heard, the driver of that transport was not an Autobot. If anything, the Quintessons were equal opportunity profiteers; they tried to screw everyone. The alien driver and the two Autobot Peons secured the crates and boxes and fused the broken side. Vehicle doors opened and slammed shut. Engines revved up and the trucks pulled out.

Stay down, I told myself. You never know if someone forgot to pick up their hat or left their keys on the ground. Wait. Ten minutes. Fifteen.

Okay. That was it for me. I wormed my way out of refuse and rolled onto the road. Pausing to listen to the world, I made certain our abandonment before hopping to my feet. Tugging Springer up, I watched as he picked at coil grubs for several minutes. Nasty things. They spiraled between armor plates and attached themselves to fuel lines.

"Got 'em all?" I asked as he smashed them with his foot.

"Hope so. Can we get back to the White Out, now? Are you all done playing hide-and-blow-it-up with the Quintessons?"

"Mm. Not really. I did not get what I initially came for."

"Which was?"

"Information about a shape-shifting Quintesson. But maybe what's important isn't so much as to how and where he got the technology, but why. And I think I already know why."

Springer cast his optics along the sullen horizon. "An alliance with the devil? So who's working for whom? Are the Quintessons working for the CDA, or is the CDA working for them?"

"Does it matter? The friend of my enemy is my enemy. Even if it's just business matters. Woe to those who put their trust in Quintessons and cast their fate in the pool of Sharkticons. Come on, Springer. I want to get off this planet."

I transformed and sped away, leaving Springer to decide for himself. I was not even sure I could trust him. And that hurt. So I directed my thoughts toward people I knew I could trust: Optimus and Cyclonus.

We gobbled miles of road. Images and shadows of a far darker time rose from nowhere and ghosted on my scanners. I forced myself not to get spooked by anything around us. after all, much of the dead lands weren't entirely devoid of life; just void of Autobot or Decepticon occupancy. Cybertron was designed to manufacture robotic life forms of all sorts from slaves to entire eco systems for other alien worlds. It made sense that much of those experimental creatures found an existence in a post-apocalyptic world. But no one, and I do mean no one, ever knew the extent of the number and types of robotic alien life forms that lived on Cybertron.

We passed the ruins of one city after another. I hoped nothing happened to the White Out during our absence. The prospect of being stranded in the Phantom Zone did not appeal to me; not when I blew someone's house. The Quintessons probably had my face on a wanted poster by now. Once we'd get back to Earth, I planned to make things a lot more stressful for them, too.

The road cut off as if someone took a giant mace and smashed it at the support beam. I almost did not break soon enough. I sailed into the air, transformed to robot mode and caught the edge, using left-over momentum to swing back on top the ledge. Springer saw that and braked in time. I landed gracefully and gauged the distance to the bottom; a bitter seven stories down.

"Can this day get any better?" Springer remarked.

"Sure it can. Look." I pointed to the distance where we found the White Out still parked where we left it. "You should have left the porch lights on, Springer."

"I could just fly us out there."

My optics found the road below us. It cascaded into a nice up-swing motion. "Tell you what, let's get off this level first, then we can fly in."

"Get off this lev- huh?"

I backed off some yards and found an antiquated transport sitting off the side of our road. Hacking off the roof, I made sure it withstood my weight. Taking a hard running start, I leapt off the edge, falling in slow motion. I admit that I'm not one for flying. But perfect weightlessness made the risk of smashing myself below worth the moment of intense coolness.

I slipped the hood under my feet like a snowboard and just half that second of first contact with the old, damaged road, I flexed my knees and kept my body in control of the 'board' under me. A beautiful shower of sparks followed as I 'skiied' over rubble, rocks and metal fragments. Springer joined me a moment later. He hacked off the truck's dilapidated hood and caught up to me as the road again broke away. It rose up, up and fell off. The turret gun of an prehistoric cannon protruded from a heap like an arm outstretched for the two of us. I caught it and hauled myself up partly so that my legs dangled comfortable below. Springer laughed when he did the same.

The light in his optics made my reckless abandon worth the risk. I grinned until I laughed. "We need to take that home with us."

"Nah," Springer argued with ease. "It'd not fit in my trunk."

It was a good answer. my optics rested on the White Out, patiently waiting for our return. "You know, Springer," I said softly, "Except to get back to Optimus, I don't want to go back to Earth. I don't want to stay here, but I don't want to go back, either. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm just... pathetic. Maybe it's that, um, after... after dealing with Smokescreen I can't say that I want to remain who and what I am. Maybe it's better to just relinquish to Trion and the CDA. There's just no telling how many other Autobots out there secretly or openly support the Defense Administration."

"I don't support them, Roddi." Springer confessed. "I know, and have known, they're wrong." he paused a half moment, optics forward. "They approached me. I know I never told you. But they did. 'Don't you ever wish you were or had more than you do?' they asked. 'More? Like what?' I asked in turn. But they only gave me generalities. And I think, Roddi, they lure people with vague ideas. They claim they're working for everyone's benefit, but I see little change. In the last eighty years, there's little difference. Well, except how Metroplex is plastered with CDA posters and banners everywhere. It's really annoying. So sometimes I'll grab a good can of paint and have at them during the night."

I laughed only once, feeling better. "I'm glad to hear that, Springer. Not so much about the graffiti, but that you do not see them better at performing their responsibilities."

"What responsibilities?" he came back. "I've yet to see any of them do anything beyond what they have to do in their own districts. And Trion, what exactly does he do when he's not preening in front of some camera? Pffp. No. I'm not fooled by them, Roddi. Now come on, let's get off this rock and get you back to Optimus."

He dropped, transformed and tipped so as to catch me when I took my turn at the drop. Springer carried me the last quarter mile to the White Out. Relief and joy swept aside pieces of my guilt over Smokescreen. We were headed home.

I paused abruptly as Springer shifted to robot and landed with a thud. My scanners picked up minute vibrations from no particular source. Lacking my sensitivity, Springer simply advanced toward the ship. I held him back, expressing only with my optics and a shake of my head. He froze and scanned the area.

Something skittered just out of visual. I turned left.

There it went again.

Skitter.

A spider?

Not on Cybertron. Not _that_ size. Not in the Phantom Zon. I scanned around us. Springer noticed and wordlessly rubbernecked, watching me watch for more movement.

"Rod-"

"Sh!" I stood dead still before reaching into subspace and flicking out a crumb of energon. I hoped our visitor was animal, not some CDA creep. I've had my fill of those. I tossed a second crumb, using only my thumb and finer to flick the sliver of ration.

Springer dropped his jaw when the creature timidly stepped out. "Look at that!" he marveled. "I didn't think _anything_ lived out here!'

I grinned, delighted as the four-legged, spider-like critter approached. Its triangular head had no face that I could see. But it certainly sported nasty teeth. It was the most alien creature I'd ever seen. I squatted and held an energon chip out for it. "Hey, fella," I called, "come over here. I won't hurt you."

"Pfft!" Springer scoffed. "It might hurt _you_, Rodimus."

"You're such an old woman, Springer."

"What's _that_ mean?"

"That I'm making fun of your cynicism." as I answered him, the critter tapped up. It craned a long neck, stretching from an armless torso. Its square tail moved slowly, fluidly. Gingerly the creature took the chip from me, laid it on the ground and nibbled.

"Rodimus," Springer's voice rang with caution. "We really need to go."

"Yeah. I know. Back to the dog pound." I offered one more chip before deciding to go. I wanted to pet the animal but I did not want to risk getting bit by those nasty teeth. I stood straight and the little 'guy' peered around us, spying the White Out.

"Sorry, fella," I said. "I can't have any pets at the apartment."

"Oh Good Primus," Springer moaned.

I followed his visual toward the ship where two smaller clones of our guest squeezed their way out the ship's vents and dropped to the ground. They scurried, racing like baby spiders toward... their mother?

The 'fella' welcomed them with a gentle chittering sound.

"Awe, crap." Springer bowed his head into his hand. He did not see 'fella' stare at the White Out again. Nor did he see two other 'fellas' plop out the vents.

I suppressed my laugher and tracked for the ship. "I think we need to check for stowaways, Springer."

He flinched and ran for his ship. The hatch lowered upon his approach and I followed, certain I knew what we'd find.

"Gaaaahhh!" Springer cried with horror. "What the Pitt?! These things are _your_ pets, Rodimus!"

"Nah-uh." I argued, "they were here before we arrived."

"Hey, get off that!" Springer shooed a little guy off the control consol. It smacked the floor, landing with legs clumsily sprawled much like a deer on ice. I allowed myself to laugh once.

"They're everywhere!" Springer opened three compartments and found critters scampering left and right. Metal dust fragments fell like glitter. Now it was serious.

"Do you have a container or something, Springer?"

"You're not going to keep these things, are you?"

"No. I just don't want to hurt them."

"They're _eating the White Out_!!" He threw the empty container at me and aimed to smash a critter as it tickled across the floor. I was glad Springer missed.

I caught one baby then another and a third before I nabbed one as it munched on a small metal object. I tried to take the metal disc from the baby and laughed when it growled in protest. "Springer," I said.

"WHAT!?" he snarled.

"I don't think this is part of the ship." He scoffed and muttered. "No," I returned, "I'm serious. Come look at this."

He obliged and through the container, we watched as the baby whatever-it-was nibbled away. I tapped the container. "Uh, is that what I think it is?"

Springer's optics glowed bright with urgency. "A Quintesson microbug! How the heck did that get-"

I clamped his mouth with my hand. "Gosh, Springer," I said a bit loudly. "There's so many critters on your ship, I guess we'd better get them off before leaving." silently I signaled for the two of us to search high and low for bugs. Not that the task really was that difficult; the baby spider-thingies had a taste for Quintesson technology and helped find microbugs in places we would never have guessed.

It was funny, however, trying to take the bugs from the babies. They played tug-of-war with us, growling at us with tiny little voices.

Springer and I collected a total of twenty-five microbugs. Three of them remained intact while the others came to us in fragments. One baby came to me, friendly as a little mouse. I wiggled my finger and it crawled up my arm, sat on my shoulder and gave itself a bath.

"You're a regular Prime Piper." Springer frowned.

"I'll keep this one," I joked. "I'll call him Bob."

"What if it's a girl?"

"Springeretta?" He glared at me. "Relax, Springer. I can't take him home. His mom won't let me."

We released all but three babies outside. They rejoined their mother who waited for them at the edge of the clearing. Springer, however, insisted on keeping three babies; two of which he killed and one alive.

I gave him a reprimanding look but said nothing. As I left to board the ship, Springer caught me. "I left three live bugs in there." he warned. "Might not be a good idea to say too much until we get back."

I swiftly came up with an idea. "Let's not land anywhere near Metroplex, then. We can make an emergency landing elsewhere. You can uh, effect repairs, remove the microbugs there."

Springer nodded, approving. He boarded the ship. I gave the alien creatures a final gaze good-bye.

New life on Cybertron; what an amazing discovery!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

ACCUSATIONS

Springer re-entered Earth space via the Gobi Desert. We sailed into the atmosphere under the shroud of night and notified the Chinese government we needed emergency repairs. They graciously gave us permission, so long as we did not land near any villages. I didn't mind that either. We settled on soft sand beneath the stars and disembarked. Keeping all communication to a minimum, Springer picked out his tools to remove our uninvited spies. He made it clear I was to touch nothing.

That was okay too. I trekked some yards from the ship and settled at the tip of a dune. The clear cold night sky hovered above me like a ceiling dotted by millions of single-eyed creatures. Cybertron floated out there, millions of miles and thousands of lifetimes away. Thoughts of Smokescreen crept into my head and my soul bled. I've had to send people to their deaths on suicide assignments before. They knew they were not coming home. But murder is not the same thing. It simply is not.

Okay, I can rationalize: had I not killed Smokescreen, he certainly would have killed me. It was his intent, even though he said he wanted to drag my carcass to Contrara. Smokescreen's death brought my thoughts to Elita; the night that she died. That was just wrong. It should not have happened, no matter how I replayed the moment in my head.

Trion _loves_ to rub her death in my face because I feel so much at fault. He uses her death to throw me off balance when the subject of his daughters rises to the surface. And I fall for that emotional manipulation every time.

I admired Elita more than any other person. She handled Op's death far better than me. She put her grief to work and set up libraries across the sector in Optimus' name. She wanted to make sure that future generations learned from the mistakes of their forebears. I even made sure she had the funds to finish her project.

Then she went missing. Fifteen years. I received nothing more a simple note. Then one day she popped up. Elita never talked about where she went or why. She became agitated and distressed when I tried to bring it up. All she'd ever say was how good it was to be back with her own people. I kept an extra optic on her after that; made sure she had everything she needed.

Elita lived in solitude in Canada for several years before she disappeared again. That time I ordered an inter-planetary search. If she was going to disappear on me again, I wanted at least a good-bye.

Three months went by. One night I drove along the Oregon coastline on the way home from a meeting in Washington. It was January and a bad winter storm slammed the coast with twenty-five foot waves. As I closed in on Coos Bay, I rolled into debris from a bad car accident. Skid marks stained the road and Autobot life blood glowed in the dark. Laser burns blotched nearby boulders at the precipice. So I stopped to investigate

I called out, heard her faint voice along the winds and found Elita dangling at the cliffside by her fingers. Wave breakers, reinforced cement spikes, waited ten stories down.

Elita tried to tell me something as I gripped her wrists. Honestly, she should never have slipped out of my grasp. But she did and she plunged. In slow motion I watched and my spark shattered with her body-a million fragments splintered on the spikes. Water gathered in by waves then towed her to the undercurrent. I sat there, kneeling, staring far into the following day and into the afternoon. why? Why? What by Primus was she trying to tell me?

Not long after that, Trion presented his 'daughters' to the press and the world at large. He brushed aside questions regarding his 'love interest's' name, claiming his 'Match' preferred to remain private. But upon seeing Arcee I had little doubt.

Mercifully, Optimus never said whether or not he remembered Elita-One. It's bad enough he can't get past Rusti's death.

Now I wonder if he'd ever recover should I die.

My fuel lines ran cold with that thought. Primus, who'd be willing to take care of him if something happened to me?

Toward dawn, Springer plodded up the sand dune and

tossed a container in my direction. I cringed at the three microbugs and wondered how long the Quintessons had been listening to us, what they knew and who originally planted the bugs.

Springer wiped his hands on a towel and nodded toward the container. "I hope I got 'em all."

"What about the babies from Cybertron? Did you kill the one that was still alive?"

"Those are a peace-offering to Perceptor for breaking one of his favorite tablets."

I studied the 'spyware' with a frown. I didn't want to know what Perceptor was going to do to the babies. They were friendly and harmless and priceless proof that Cybertron was slowly rejuvenating without our help. Springer's three doo-hickies hit me with a really naughty idea. I stood with a smile. "Are we ready to leave yet?" Springer nodded. "Good. 'cause I know exactly where I'd like to put these things."

I hoped the microbugs still worked. Springer verified their condition but neither of us really knew whether the signal was received or not.

Springer and I toured Hong Kong first and planted one bug at the largest animal shelter, now broadcasting animal sounds across space.

Upon arrival in Oregon, I paid a boy to sneak into a high-rise hotel and plant a bug in any elevator that played musak while the last bug Springer and I rigged to a radio station that play 'Old Tyme' Gospel music.

Sometimes it's good to be Prime.

We landed in Autobot City late Thursday afternoon. Springer insisted he take the 'spider-thingies' to Perceptor himself while I checked in with Kup.

"Good to have you home, Lad." Kup cheerfully greeted. "How was your trip?"

"Eventful," I answered smoothly. "How's things here?"

Kup answered me with a stabbing expression. "Had to ask Optimus to deal with a few things since 'someone else' was too busy to handle business. I suggest, however, that you have a talk with Optimus. You'll find out what I mean."

I glanced out his office window and found Magnus and Arcee on the patio of the next building in another heated argument. She smacked him and flung her arms up and down, posturing in the kind of fury I'd not seen in most femmes. Magnus, equally as agitated, tried to plea with her only to get the brush-off. He blew his top and that, naturally, made her cry. I simply could not understand why he allowed her to shove him around. She wasn't worth that much distress.

Shrugging the moment off, I left Kup for my own office. As I strolled the crosswalk platform, I spotted someone or something dangling from the Library Center one block shy of Central Command.

_"Yo, Rod-man_!" Blaster greeted. "How's it goin'? Glad t' have ya back, Jack!"

"Thanks, Blaster. But uh, what's that thing hanging off the EDC building?"

Blaster snorted uncharacteristically. "Better ask Kup. Or better yet, _Optimus_."

Optimus slaved away in his office. Tempra traded one digipad after another as the city director read, signed and commented on each in a swift and successive manner. She smiled at me as Op finished the pile.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" she asked him.

"Not at this time. Thank you, Tempra."

She smiled and departed. Op stood and stretched joints long since frozen in position. He greeted me with a light expression. "Hello, Rodimus. How was your trip?"

"Mm. Tricky. Educational. Maybe even refreshing." He looked me up and down but asked no further questions. "Op," I started. He picked out another digipad and the huge visa-screen flickered on. I knew he listened, though he did not verbally acknowledge me. "Uhhh... what, uh. Is- Is that-?"

"Twin Twist?" he finished without looking. "Yes it is." He switched screens on the one digipad then swept up another. I laid a hand on them until he met my optics.

"Magnus was not here. Twin Twist and Sunstreaker got into another confrontation. I decided to isolate Twin Twist."

I saw the humor in it and my grin grew into laughter. Op kept tapping the tablet but I caught his underlying smile just the same. He stood before the wall-sized visascreen and compared a digital map of Metroplex to the pad in his hand. I hopped on his desk and watched him silently work for fifteen minutes before he turned to me, a frown darkened his optics.

"Op?" I said lightly. "What's up?" He stared a long moment, shifting equations in his head. I wish it were easier for him to adjust from one line of thought to another.

"Nothing is up, Rodimus. It's all down. As in _underground_."

My smile faded. "What?"

Using the digipad like a large remote control, Optimus tapped controls on the screen and accessed the televisor. He brought up Metroplex's schematics and zoomed into the area currently under construction for the new chamber. "Trion changed some of the plans on his new pet project a couple days before you left."

"Yeah, I said numbly. "I knew that."

"But it won't be three storeys up. It'll be two stories up, three stories down." Optimus switched windows and displayed a detailed blueprint of the intended construct. I slid off the desk and stared at the designs: a huge underground bunker within the city itself meant not for offices and living quarters, but a barracks, a situation room- "And Primus, Op, what's this?"

"Interrogation."

"You mean a torture chamber?" I stared at him, horrified. "Where did you get this information?"

He hesitated, "Steeljaw. I asked him to investigate when he found an anomaly."

My optics ping-ponged between Op and the visual aid. "Optimus, how..."

Optimus shook his head, equally as perplexed. He focused intensely at me. "I don't understand, though, Roddi. I hope you can explain it to me."

I couldn't get my own head around it. "I don't know, Op. I mean um, an interrogation room is one thing, but torture? Are you sure-"

"No, Roddi," Optimus uncharacteristically interrupted. "I mean your signature."

"What?"

"I don't understand why you signed and approved the construction when two weeks before you and Trion fought over it."

I dropped my chin, aghast. "I didn't sign it!"

He handed me the pad and pointed to the middle right side. Sure enough, my name and personal ID code sat in the authorization space. I met his confused expression with a complete loss for words.

"No," I denied, vigorously shaking my head. "No, I did not sign it-"

"It has your ID code, Roddi-"

"I know what it has, Op, but it's not me. I did NOT sign it!"

He took the digipad back, disbelief written across his demeanor.

"Look, Op, you KNOW I don't want the CDA here. Why by Primus would I want them to even vacation here?"

I don't know, Rodimus."

"I did not sign it. Maybe ... most likely-it's been forged. And you say Steeljaw brought it to you? Who had it before him?" Op did not answer, clearly distressed over the matter. An ID code is a personalized energy signature and mine and Op's would be very different from anyone else on Cybertron because it's mingled with Matrix energy. How anyone managed to forge the signature is beyond my ability to explain. I laid my hands on his shoulders as he stared at the pad as if willing the problem to correct itself. "Look, Op, let's take the pad to Perceptor. Maybe he can figure it out, okay?" Optimus did not move or speak. "Hey," I softly called. "I really... I need you to trust me. I would never lie to you, Op. C'mon. Let's get this cleared up, okay?"

I was dead blunt positive the pad was tampered with. _Had_ to be.

To my horror, Perceptor stepped out with a solemn, long face. I stared, already knowing what his report would entail.

"I'm as much shocked and perplexed as you, Rodimus." Perceptor glared at the pad, shaking his head.

"This can't be right-and I _swear_ I did not sign it!"

"You exclusively possesses the capacity to inscribe in this manner, Rodimus." Perceptor said gravely. "Even Optimus, the one other person _remotely_ capable of mimicking your energy signature could not do so. His tachyon prints retroactively register eighty years."

Op took the pad from the scientist's hand but I did not see him nail Perceptor with his optics. "Anything is possible, Perceptor." he said quietly. "Not just anyone has the ability, but if Roddi said he didn't do it, then I take his word."

His words meant to cheer me. But the situation was just another damned thing to add to my to-do list. I slumped into a nearby chair and glared at the tablet.

*

Sixteen digipads surrounded Magnus as he lay upon his berth. He half talked to himself as he brooded over one pad then another. Magnus adjusted the support pillows behind his back. He raced to catch up on all the files and reports he missed over the last several days. Optimus' small and immaculate handwriting kept all notes in order. His work was not as detailed as Magnus would have liked, but all the facts lined in numerical and alphabetical order.

Arcee tapped at the door to his quarters then entered. She leaned against the door wearing a guilty expression in her optics.

If Magnus noticed, he did not say so. He shook his head at the tablet in question, put it down and plucked up another.

"How can I apologize?" she asked in a little voice. "You were right, you know." Magnus did not look at her and did not say anything. Arcee pouted and hugged herself. "Please. Please don't shut me out." When he still did not respond, she knelt at the foot of his bed and peered into his face, hoping for a glimmer of acknowledgment. "I love you," she choked back tears. "It's just that I let my pride get in the way and, and I just-I'm so, so sorry, Ultra Magnus. Can you possibly forgive me?"

Now he set his gaze upon her, wearing a frown. "What do you want from me, Arcee? You pick a fight over the slightest detail. I don't think you love me. I don't think you _can_ love me. Any little thing sets you off into this highly dramatized tantrum. I do what I can to work on our relationship. But you can't seem to understand that I also have a responsibility to the city. I'd love to retire and take you someplace where we can just mess around all day. But I can't. So maybe you need to find someone else-"

"I don't want anyone else!" she wept and tried to control herself. "I love _you_. But I'm so jealous of Metroplex; always taking your time and attention away!"

He sighed. "Well, that's just it. You need more than I can give. I spent several days with you and left all my work for Optimus and those several days still weren't enough for you. It's frustrating that you're making me choose between you and Metroplex. You don't seem to understand what it takes to run Autobot City. You don't seem to _want_ to understand that this is important to me. I love what I do. I'd love to have a relationship with you, Arcee, but not at the cost of giving up my job."

"I am so sorry. I am so very sorry. Please... let me try again. I will do better. I-I'll even seek counseling, if that's what you want."

Magnus could not say no to that. After all, Arcee was the only person willing to listen as he talked about his duties, the detailed events and pressures that haunted him. Arcee saw Magnus as a person beyond his temper, beyond the tough, rugged drill instructor. She gave him a sense of being something more than just another control panel holding Metroplex together.

She loved him, or claimed that she loved him. Wasn't that love worth another shot? Meekly he nodded at the empty space to his left and Arcee joined him, cuddling in silence while he continued his work.

Magnus labored all day and far into the night while Arcee slept peacefully curled next to him. Magnus held three online conferences and frequently checked in with his staff as they submitted reports and tabbed progress on construction and activity throughout the city.

Magnus made particular note how Optimus still had not retracted Twin Twist from his dangling position.

By one thirty A.M. Arcee woke with a deep breath and stretched luxuriously. She moved her body slowly to attracted his attention. When that failed, she trailed a hand up his left leg. "Oooh, Commander, what a fine smooth polish you have!" she grinned until he lowered the pad just enough to peer at her.

"Did you say something?" He did not hide his grin very well.

"How about you put that stuff away and examine _me_ for a while?"

Magnus wanted to. Concentrate! He told himself. "Um, because I'm checking a strange oversight at Mars." Magnus picked up yet another pad. "And the further I search, the more suspicious it looks."

Arcee wiggled her way between his legs. She kissed the blue center down his chest, leaving minute electrical prints as she pressed her lips along one path then another. "You work too hard, Mister City Commander."

Magnus grinned. He set the pads down and dragged the frisky femme to his face. "You don't work hard enough, Missy." he softly admonished. "And I'd love to spend time with you, but I'm tracking down a mystery."

Arcee smiled wickedly and kissed the dark blue collar bar at the top of his chest. "And what's the mystery? Other than the fact that you're all but married to your work?"

Magnus moaned lightly as she trailed kisses from his chest plate to his neck under his helm. Magnus held up the digipad. "Well, here, according to feedback sent to Optimus from Cosmos, the Mars facility has no communications systems for the employees. There's not so much as a P.O. Box and the facility is ready-" Her lips cut him off and Magnus dropped the tablet and arched as his lover kissed him deeply. Her hand slipped under him and he became soft as solder.

She parted from his face, her lips glowing with fading energy. She stared deep into his optics. "You can't resist me, Ultra Magnus. Put away the toys and play with me."

"Mmmm... I'd love to, Bunny. But this is really important. Most of those documents were written to prohibit workers from communicating to their families. And almost one third of the documents are signed by Rodimus Prime."

Arcee planted her lips just above Magnus' optics then she kissed his left audio sensor. "You don't owe Rodimus anything, my magnificent Magnus. You know how he thinks of you; some sort of overbearing military brute with the social capacity of a Klingon. And daddy did mention a time or two how Prime considered transferring you to the space platform. Besides, he's so obsessed over his zombie-pet, he probably doesn't care as to what he's doing. So stop fussing over Rodimus-wannabe-Prime and make love to me."

She was scrumptious. Magnus decided fifteen minutes to half an hour couldn't hurt. He switched the new-found data to an insignificant tablet for security reasons before his lover jolted his body and sent him reeling with mindless pleasure.

*

Optimus half-watched another interview with Alpha Trion on the early morning news. That same insignificant tablet that lay on Magnus' bed landed on Optimus' desk at five A.M.

Mirage piled it and six other tablets on the desk and wished Optimus a good morning. "Have you seen the news, City Director?" Optimus stared at him, his emotions totally non-committal. Mirage sent his gaze to the large televisor on the wall. "I, uh, I was just a bit curious. Alpha Trion said they'd sent four hundred people to Mars last week and another three hundred, fifty are preparing for departure."

Optimus studied the Autobot's shape and tried to remember his name. The Matrix knew. And the Matrix suspected everything. _Don't tell Mirage anything._ "What's on Mars, Mirage? What are they doing?"'

"Oh, Trion said..." Mirage's upper-toned voice lost its significance to Optimus. He knew about the supposed gem deposits. He knew about the minerals. But what Mirage either did not know or wasn't telling was that no one heard or saw any human workers emerge from the facility once they entered.

Optimus reviewed Magnus' notes three times. Five and seven did not add to twelve.

"... don't you, Optimus?"

Mirage looked forward to the entire council coming to Metroplex for a visit. The Matrix heard it all. Optimus just stared. He processed the names Mirage gave him. He tried to coordinate faces with the names but his memory failed.

Irrelevant. "Mirage," Optimus picked up another pad, "what Autobots are assigned to the Mars facility?"

"Autobots? Er-which Autobots?" He inwardly squirmed. Optimus stared at him with optics that reflected nothing and yet there lay a silver light behind them as if something else lurked there. The subtle sight unsettled Mirage. "I-I don't know."

"Then I am assigning you to find out."

"I can't," Mirage rejected quickly. "I-I'm already doing some-uh, research for Ultra Magnus. S-something-"

_Liar._

"Something about the council chamber-"

_Liar._

"-the safety designs."

_Liar._

Optimus remained unmoved. His blue optics retained solid color except for the most minute of silver sparking just at the outer edges. That silver line disturbed Mirage more so now because he thought-oh, Primus, please let it be just a reflection. He thought it formed a face, ancient and well-knowing.

"Now you have two assignments, Mirage." Optimus answered, unwavering. He knew Mirage was spooked. The Autobot lied. Optimus did not have to sift through tablets. He grabbed just the right one without looking and handed it to Mirage. "I want it back with a complete list of names, stations and duty rosters in twelve hours."

Mirage swore on his family history he'd never seen Optimus-let alone anyone else-just grab a pad out of an indistinct stack and hand it to him. Digipads were never empty. He stared at the pad upon which a counter tracker-tracer zig-zagged at the top. If the pad was damaged, lost or simply not returned, Optimus would know immediately.

The Autobot slowly backed out the office. I'll-I'll get right on it. I'll-I'll-"

"You'll be back in twelve hours."

Mirage nodded vigorously and swiftly left. He neared the end of the hall when he ran into someone and staggered back like a startled animal.

WHAM! I caught a shaken Mirage as he grabbed a digipad before it clattered to the floor. "Hey there, whoa! Hah, easy there!"

"Sorry-sorry, Prime. I didn't -I got twelve hours. I have to go." And off he scurried like frightened ally cat. Baffled, I watched Mirage, AKA 'Mr. Easy-Going' half-run out the hall.

Knocking at Op's office door, I heard the local TV station sound out an ad for a voice-controlled house item locator.

The door opened and I stepped in, ready to go through city reports for the week. "Hey," I declared. "Did you see Mirage? He was spooked."

Optimus shuffled pads to one side on his desk for me. "He lied. So I gave him an assignment."

I stood there, just as nonplused at Op as I was over Mirage. "You gave him an assignment for lying to you? What about?

Op settled in his chair as the TV ad ended and a news reporter gabbed about a new musical playing in Metroplex. "He said Magnus had him working security detail."

"It's not like Mirage to lie though, Op. Why would he do that?" Rather than answer me, Optimus turned to the newscast where the reporter made mention of the Defense Administration. And there Trion stood, yet again, beaming like a demigod. Cameras flashed from all directions.

_"We are incredibly pleased with the rate of work accomplished on Mars. But there is so much more to go. Our valued Human workers are exceedingly enthused with findings of such materials as gold and emeralds and blue copper. We're finding so much that we're having to hire another four thousand hands. There's also been an agreement to push up the date for the new council chamber here."_

_ "Counselor,"_ the lady reporter came in. _"There is a document stating a problem with a lack of communication between workers and their families."_

Optimus muttered his comment; "nice leak, Magnus."

I wanted to ask what he was talking about but Trion's answer distracted me.

_ "We're currently trying to solve that problem even as we speak, Miss Rhodes. We can't get anything out at the moment but if families wish to send letters addressed to their loved ones on Mars, they can bring them here to Metroplex. Our revered and esteemed leader, Rodimus Prime, will be honored to handle them."_

I about dropped through the floor.

"Rodimus," Op's voice made me cringe. "Is there something going on you're not talking about?"

I pointed to the giant viewscreen. "I had no idea he'd pull this stunt on me, Op. I would not do this to you and Magnus."

"Really? What about your weekly meetings? I've never pried but in light of the signatures-"

"Okay, there's that. I'd tell you, but I can't-" I paused, his last word registered on the "waitaminute' alarm. "You just said 'signatures,' Op."

"Yes I did."

"As in plural."

"That's correct."

"No. There was just the one digipad."

"Ultra Magnus found an additional sixteen, all regarding Mars. What is going on, Rodimus?"

The door buzzed. Speaking of Magnus, he came stomping in, another digipad in hand. His blue optics smoldered.

"What the flaming Pitt is this shit, Rodimus?" he thundered. "And for crying to Primus, Optimus get TWIN TWIST DOWN!"

"We're working on it." Optimus answered in a much quieter, leveled voice. "And no. I told Twin Twist he's to be isolated for a period of two weeks."

Magnus sneered. "Is that so?" Magnus pinned me with raging optics. "Haven't you seen that?" he pointed outside.

"Yeah," I answered simply. I crossed my arms and sat at a corner on Op's desk.

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

I shrugged. "Uhhhh.... well-no. Not yet, anyway."

"Oh! And THIS, Rodimus? Did you see the news? No? Then let me brief you: I just found an additional twelve signatures to the sixteen I found last night-" Magnus turned his disdain on me. "You want to tell us what the hell this is all about?"

"Sure I do," I remarked smartly, "as soon as I find out myself."

Magnus threw his digipad at me and I just caught it before it hit my face. "THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

Op jumped to his feet. I held my breath as his voice dipped dangerously. "Calm down, Magnus. I'm sure there's an explanation."

"Yeah," I agreed, relieved Op did not attack. "except that we can't find one."

Magnus took back the digipad. "Alright. Let's start by date verification." I groaned inwardly. Mr. Detail-Up-The-Anus strikes again. "On nineteen February, you signed a contract regarding Mars mining operations and Iridic Enterprises."

"What?" I had no words-foul or otherwise-to convey the shock. Iridic Enterprises was owned and controlled by Kather Ad Abdran and Reyk Tul, Quintessons whose business dealings were far less than ideal.

Magnus continued: "On twenty-seven February, you signed in Council Elder Dynamix to oversee all business affairs between Cybertron and Iridic Enterprises. On four March, you signed an agreement stating all profits derived from the Mars mines will be split strictly between the Defense Administration and Iridic Enterprises with Earth and Metroplex receiving a point five percent total earning. On twelve May, you signed an authorization prohibiting communication of any kind going to or from Mars without proper authorization from four departments. On nine June, you signed a law stating that all human breeding be done under strict supervision-what the bloody Pitt is this crap, Rodimus?"

stunned into silence, I could not oxidate. My mouth hung open.

Optimus spoke but I barely listened. "It sounds grossly suspicious, Magnus; too much like a set up."

"How could it be a set up?" Magnus challenged. "Don't you think I would have thought that? I even had the signatures examined."

My voice almost squeaked, "By Perceptor."

"No. I went to Microus and he said they were all authentic."

My fuel lines ran cold. "Magnus, I"m telling you, I didn't sign them!"

"Well, you must have," Magnus growled. "Because each of these dates correlate with those days that you've left Metroplex on your little private meetings. This doesn't look good, Rodimus. I want to believe you, I really do. But the evidence is very convincing."

"Well, the evidence is wrong." I replied sternly. "All your little dates and names and numbers doesn't mean a thing. I didn't-"

Magnus pinned me with his optics. "Doesn't mean a thing?" he echoed. "The evidence is objective, Rodimus Prime! Optimus, what did _Perceptor_ say about the tablet you have?"

Optimus hesitated. "The order about the CDA hall?"

"Yes. What's it say? Who signed it?"

"It was signed by Rodimus-or so Perceptor said. But I-"

"And did he say the pad was tampered with?"

I did not want Op dragged into this debate. "No," he said quietly.

"And do you think Perceptor would lie about something like that?"

Op could not look him in the optics. "No-"

"Stop," I snarled. "That's enough."

"No, it's not." Magnus countered. "Not when it involves security measures here or puts Human lives at stake. Not when it involves Quintessons- and you can't cover your sorry aft with a decent alibi!"

That got under my exostructure and I leapt off Op's desk. "I have my reasons, Magnus!" I yelled. "No matter what it might look like to YOU! I am not some dumb-ass little kid who skips out on his duties for a bit of fun!"

"No, just one day a week, Rodimus-just those days in which all this slag was signed! What's the REAL truth, Rodimus? You'd better hope your explanation is better than just coincidence because you're looking at _treason_, Rodimus Prime!"

"Oh, you want to talk _treason_?" I spat, "How about sleeping with Alpha Trion's daughter?" I was so mad I almost did not hear Op insist we stop shouting.

"Don't you DARE bring her into this!"

"AS IF you're not aware how she's been going behind your back trying to seduce me!"

Magnus pounded the corner of Op's desk, crushing the metal under his powerful fist. "You're just juvenile enough to detract this conversation from the real point!"

I leaned forward, daring. "Say it, Magnus!" I snarled. I know _exactly_ what you think of me; that I'll NEVER be the true Autobot leader-that the Matrix brought Optimus back because I'm such a screw-up!"

"WELL, IT'S OBVIOUS! YOU SIGNED THE GODDAMNED TABLETS!"

"AND YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH A SLUT!"

All I heard was a crack and the next second, I was on the floor. But rather than Magnus' powerful right cross knocking sense into me, it poured gas onto a smoldering fire. I rammed him down and we rolled until I kicked him off.

Op jumped to the moment and held Magnus back. "STOP IT!" he growled, "BOTH OF YOU! We're all guilty of something here!"

Magnus turned ugly. "And it started with _you!_ Trion's right. You're a distraction and a liability."

"Is that your assessment, Ultra Magnus?" Op snarled. "Or are you hand-fed corrupted data by your sex partner?"

Magnus punctuated his statement with a right cross in Op's face plate. "I said to keep her OUT OF THIS!"

I know Optimus is a big boy and can handle his own fights-and everyone else's. But it still pissed me off when Magnus attacked him. I jumped and took down the mountainous city commander with a good kick to his left shoulder. 

Stunned, Magnus staggered back. But he did not stay surprised. He tackled both Op and me, using his arms simultaneously and the three of us flew into the corner of Op's office near the visa-screen. Undeterred, Optimus leveled his foot under the city commander and shoved him off.

I clambered to my knees and gripped Op painfully round the shoulders. "STOP!"

He did. Op froze where he stood. He had no real intention to fight.

"Look," I said, "I'm sorry. This just got out of hand."

Magnus clambered to his over-sized feet. "Oh, sure," he mocked. His bulk swayed one side to the next. "It's out of hand. We're all sorry. We're sorry for the issues at hand. Sorry for all the stupid mistakes. Sorry for disloyalty."

I glared. "What are you getting at, Magnus?"

"I think you know, Roddi-boy. They said she fell five stories to her death off the cliff side at Trinidad. Not enough pieces to put together. Fish bait, isn't that what you said about her? Huh? Tell him, Rodimus! Tell him the truth about how Elita was once the love of his life-his life when he was _Optimus Prime_."

Op stared at me. Questions lit his optics; questions I was not ready to answer. "Rodimus?"

I forced myself to answer, "It's true, Op. Elita loved you like no one else." I pointed to Magnus. "Which is why I still think Trion's daughters are _hers._"

"Don't start," Magnus warned.

My optics flared. "Do you really think her daddy, Mr. Alphalfa T is guiltless? Come ON, MAGNUS! Think with something other than your gonads! What did they say about me? Huh?"

I did not like how Optimus watched me.

"Ask your zombie-friend, there," Magnus challenged. "Ask him the stuff he's found, the documents and odd things going on in Metroplex. What's that, Optimus? Nothing to say? Too afraid to face the possibility that Rodimus might be a Dark Prime?"

"WHAT?!" I blew.

Magnus stared like a cat. "Oh, yes. Optimus here has been quietly accessing records, files, attaining documents and comparing them to ancient accounts.

"It was a precaution." Op defended quietly. "I had to be sure-"

my temper heated, "you couldn't just _trust_ me enough... you had to _investigate_ me? ME?!"

"Don't get your ire up, Rodimus. Magnus got the same treatment. My concern was for the Autobots and the safety of Metroplex. I am not going to stand by and allow anything like Nemesis to happen. I don't like what Trion was implying. But I had to be sure."

I lost it completely and my mouth went off without proper authorization. "You have _no_ authority! No RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A PRIME!"

Never, ever, ever say the wrong thing to someone who can punch with the force of three tons per square inch. I took that impact and the very next second, the far-side wall near the door resembled the shape of my body. I landed and lost wind. I did not see Magnus attempt a roundhouse kick. That one failed, too. I wanted to laugh at Magnus for being dumb, but my mandible creaked until I popped it back into place.

Magnus flew out of control and I ducked as he, too, embossed the wall. In a way, I found the whole incident sorta funny.

Op approached, his calm demeanor sent chills down my back. "Had enough?" he dared.

I sprang forward and Op and I flew. Optimus' back smacked the giant televisor. It shattered in a tinkly-crinkly sound and glass fragments showered everywhere. Optimus rolled and pinned me underneath. I did not have Op's bulk, but I had his strength. I shoved him off with my feet and Op slammed onto the desk. He back- flipped and landed lightly on the desktop; the tablets scattered like metal cards. Unfortunately for Op, he concentrated so much on me that he did not anticipate Mags sneaking from behind. Ultra Magnus grabbed him and they toppled, landing hard. Their combined weight crunched the floor, smashing polished metal plates.

Op elbowed Magnus in the side and grabbed him round the back of the head to subdue him. Magnus pushed over with his right foot so that he managed to pin the city director for a brief moment before Optimus flipped up with all his strength and sent Magnus further into the damaged visa-screen.

It was time to end the fight. I grabbed Optimus round the neck and proceeded to slowly squeeze him into unconsciousness.

Magnus charged like a mad rhino. He hefted Op's huge, ten-ton desk over his head and threw it at us. Optimus pushed backward, so that I was forced to roll away. At the last millisecond, Op kicked the desk away.

Magnus ducked and the desk smashed out the window and sailed a grand thirty feet before crashing in the courtyard below.

I rolled too far and almost followed the desk. But I grabbed the window ledge and yanked myself back into Op's office. I incidently slammed Magnus in the back.

Op ducked and Magnus flew across the room and through the door, breaking it clear off.

I intended to grab Optimus again when he too side-stepped. He snatched my legs, swung me once and out the room. I zoomed, colliding on top of Magnus.

Shaking, I forced myself up on my elbows and watched as Optimus picked up the shattered, banged-up door and posted it over the doorway just as security dashed in from both sides of the hallway.

Magnus and I breathlessly pointed to Op's office.

"He's in there." we chorused.


	9. Chapter 9

T.L. Arens: Hell's Alliance

CHAPTER 9

TRAPEZIUS

We stood in Central Command's second story lobby, banged up, exhausted and in big trouble. Me, Op and Mags fidgeted and rubbed our owies like school boys in the principal's office. Uncle Trion paced before us and tried to keep his professional cool.

Trion paused and stabbed us with his optics, hot with indignation and so-called righteous anger. I grinned every time he turned his back to me. Kup's boys surrounded us and Trion had to maintain his dignity and politically-correct posture which meant he could not lose his temper in front of them.

I wondered if I could push him to that point.

"What is it with the three of you?" His Trionness hotly demanded. "And you, Ultra Magnus, the _desk_? What were you thinking?"

I leaned over, gazing past Op to Mags. "Yeah, what were you thinking?"

"Be quiet Rodimus," Trion growled. "I am astounded and ashamed of your puerile behavior! It's disgraceful and an embarrassment to your entire administration. I suffered three hours while Contrara, Dynamix and Exel Pi expressed their immense displeasure. And YOU!" He stopped in front of Optimus. "You're down right dangerous. You could have killed Magnus and Rodimus. What the Pitt has gotten into you?"

"IF I wanted to kill them, Trion, They wouldn't be standing here." Op nailed him with icy optics.

Magnus spoke lightly and reverently. He even lowered his head, "I'm sorry, Alpha Trion. It was my fault." I wanted to strangle Mags for respecting someone who had no Matrix-given authority.

"No," I jumped in. "It was mine. I threw the first punch."

That threw Magnus off kilter because I just stole his credibility factor. "No," he insisted, "I burst into the room, screaming and yelling."

I stood straighter, baiting Trion's annoyed attention. "Well, **I** was going to do that **next**. You just beat me to it-"

Magnus raised the bar: "**I'm** the one who discarded the desk."

"Pffp. **I** threw the next first punch."

"**I** lost my temper-"

"ENOUGH!" Trion ordered. "Were it up to me, I'd have all three of you in the brig! How am I supposed to explain _this_ to the press? Do you have any idea how the public will look at this?"

Softly grunting with indifference, Optimus pushed off the wall and proceeded out the room. All optics watched him, amazed by his gall.

I shrugged. "I guess that settles it then."

Trion hit me with flaring optics. "It settles NOTHING! Optimus, get back here! I'm NOT finished!!"

Without turning around, Optimus opened the second door and stepped across the threshold. "You are now."

*

Unable to control us (for the moment), Trion reluctantly returned to his own little world. He proclaimed he'd have to work extra hard to buffer our tracks and keep things looking good to the world at large. Uncle Trion tried to make me feel guilty and obligated by covering our sins through public relations rhetoric.

I sat at my room balcony for thirty-six solid hours, moping. I didn't answer any calls. I didn't placate to Trion's pissy-fits. I just sat there and watched the sun come up, vanish into the night and return. I felt dead and cold with guilt. Not because Trion made me feel that way. I did not care what he thought of the situation. But never, ever, ever did I ever think I'd fight with the two people closest to me. I hurt the two people I relied on the most. What exactly happened? How did we get into such a heated-and ridiculous-fight? Over what?

I was pissed that Optimus investigated my activities, looking for clues that might lead him to convict me of betrayal. Why was I so mad over it? Obviously his intentions weren't antagonistic. And I had nothing to hide. Although I kept the meetings between me and Cyclonus secret, I still had nothing to hide. And Magnus and the whole Arcee-thing made my fuel boil. His first responsibility was to the Autobots. I will admit that the right-cross was something I've wanted to do for a long time; knock sense into him. But it was not something I should ever do. My behavior was out of line.

Obviously I owed them both a huge apology. But truthfully, I didn't know where to start. The whole 'I'm sorry' thing didn't seem enough.

I am the Autobot leader. I am responsible. Not Magnus. Not Op. As the day waxed old into early evening, I thought about all the events, causes and conditions of our current situation and somehow there's still a huge X at the other end of the equation.

No, I argued with myself, not an X, but a T. Papa T. _His Trionness_. Did I indeed make a mistake when I stopped Optimus from killing Alpha Trion? I should have let Optimus pull that trigger.

Woulda. Shoulda. Coulda. So what was I to do about it now? How could I possibly remove Alpha Trion from his political throne? Was there any way at all? Was there anything powerful enough to dislodge him like an unwanted rock in the tire tread? He was so adored by the public, so idolized by the Autobots, so much a part of our history, our culture, that taking him down would be like removing Santa Clause from Christmas. Everyone looked on him as their collective father-figure. If only they knew that behind the scenes, he is a back-stabbing, manipulative, traitorous, Quintesson...

Staring across the horizon, crowned by city lights, I realized I had no real allies. I have friends: Springer, Kup... Aces Six. But I have no allies with any political pull to speak of. Even Magnus, who had good rapport with other influential Autobots and certain 'circles', was not really entirely there for me.

I have been intentionally manipulated into standing alone. Were it not for Optimus, I'd have no one at all. Trion successfully cut me off from anyone who held any kind of 'pull'. And how many times has he attempted to take Optimus? Nemesis was _his_ idea from the start!

It made him hate the old goat even moreso.

And if Trion was able to plant an idea in Op's head, and produce set-ups that caused dissension between the three of us, how much longer would it be before we had another fight?

I needed to salvage the situation. I needed to get Optimus out of the city; off the planet, out of Trion's reach and influence. But I needed to do it tonight and as covertly as possible.

Rummaging through my quarters, I found The Box. Inside lay the two cloaks given me by Ambassador Elch Th'yinion. I used them to sneak around or out of Metroplex without anyone seeing me. The cloaks utilized subspace materials to bounce light so that it reflected and refracted, pulsating molecules so close to the speed of light, even Blurr might be impressed. The cloaks weren't magic; just cool.

I tip-toed Central Command and hoped Op was in his temporary new office doing mundane late-night 'Op-type' things. But he was not.

Where the heck would he go this time of night? It being about four A.M., a perfect time to do this, _naturally_ he'd disappear on me. Of course, I had not spoken to him since our spat. He may still be miffed at me. But it was not Op's nature to carry a grudge. Possible, but not likely.

[[Op? Optimus??]] I called over staff comline. I almost asked Metroplex. That would have been a bad move.

[[Here, Roddi.]] came his solemn, quiet but reassuring tone.

[[where are you?]]

Pause. [[Here.]]

Weird. Usually he'd tell me exactly where. I guessed he was in his quarters. I slipped another level up and east but upon arrival, found the place empty. [[Where's 'here', Op? You're not home.]] Instead of answering, he sent me a visual: a broken window overlooking the city's western half.

Where was that? What was he trying to say? I left his quarters but could not guess if I needed to go left or right. I chose right. But I did not get further than three paces before I paused. Something nagged me; the kind of psychic 'tug' like I had when Swoop was killed or when Cyclonus first approached with a truce. I took an internal assessment using an ability given to those few Autobots who heard Matrix Music. I 'listened' as a terrible sense of dread slammed into my spark with such dread it nearly smothered me. I gripped my chest, heaving a tearless whimper.

Something wordlessly terrible, some sort of catastrophic event, was coming. Everything, everyone was going to affected from the upper echelon to the lowliest of persons. I searched, asking if I could do anything to prevent the approaching disaster.

No.

No? No?!

I searched again, hoping for a better answer. no. no. _everything_ was going to irrevocably change.

My first thought was for Op. I had to move _now_. I had to do whatever it took to protect him. That's what 'here' meant; his office where the gaping windows, yet unrepaired, let in cool Oregon air. I raced, resisting my emotional turmoil. We couldn't leave Metroplex soon enough.

There his door stood, leaning against the left wall. In spite of the lightless environment, I recognized his silhouette at the window, gazing across the well-lit cityscape. He sat motionless, clutching Rusti's gift in his hand. How long had he sat there? Did he blame himself for the fight?

It should not have happened. I inwardly screamed at myself. How could I _ever_ fix this? How could I patch up the broken relationships? My optics darted from one gloomy corner to another. Lost. Lost.

My heart broke; so did I. His office, now devoid of his desk, stood dark, hollow and fragmented like his soul; like my heart. I couldn't keep back the tears. I sank to my knees and crawled to him, a sinner seeking redemption no matter the price.

He turned to me emotionless as I crossed the room littered with damaged digipads, torn flooring and broken glass. "Optimus," I whispered.

His optics dimmed; pained. "I'm so sorry, Rodimus. I lost control-"

"No," I wept, "No, Optimus _I'm_ sorry. I'm so, so sorry! I don't... I think something horrible is about to happen. And Op, Op, I don't what to lose you!"

His sad expression hurt. "You'll not lose me, Roddi." he quietly promised.

"You don't understand, Op. Everything is gone! I don't know why I didn't see it before! Why was I so blind? Why was I so stupid? Everything I know is gone. You're all I have left and, and I don't want to lose you!" I sobbed fully now, unable to hide or hold back pent-up fears and frustrations.

"You are an Autobot leader, Rodimus," Op spoke so quietly I almost could not hear him. "You are not a deity. There was nothing you could have-"

"I could have disbanded the CDA!"

He shook his head. "No, Roddi, you could not. The only way something like that can be removed is by self-destruct. And it is I who should beg your forgiveness, my dear Roddi. I could not be strong enough to help you. I could not be the person you needed me to be. And I am so sorry."

The premonition strengthened and I thought I felt the world fall to pieces right under me. I felt so horribly alone, so completely helpless. "Op," I whispered, "Op, do you trust me at all? Can you forgive me enough to trust me?"

He wiped my runaway tears. "Of course I do, Roddi."

His touch became priceless. I lost my people. I lost the city-maybe even forfeited my life but I could still save him. I extracted the two cloaks. "We have to leave, Op. We have to leave right now. Do you trust me?"

He picked at the dark silver material like a child distracted by a new curiosity. "Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you. At least not here." He gazed at me, weighing the situation and my status. I wondered if there was enough Prime left in Optimus to give him the ability to read people like he used to. Op's empathic abilities were the stuff of legend. I know I have it too, but I've not been able to hone in on it-at least to his level.

He picked at the cloak a second or two more then stood and offered me his hand. His optics glanced at the city as the world approached a predawn sky. I swept up the cloaks, put mine on first then helped Op with his.

He liked the silky feel and how the cloak caught the light so that it shimmered in a menagerie of color. I watched him explore it a moment longer until thoughts of losing him hit me again. The sooner we got out of Metroplex-I choked up.

"Come on. Let's get outta here."

I guided him out of Central Command through the secret exits. My internal chronometer blared ten to six. We had to get out and away before Blaster started his shift. I didn't know if me and Op would even make it to the space port let alone to the White Out. We managed across three blocks without incident-except that one oncoming truck nearly smacked us into foil as we navigated the main downtown intersection.

We arrived at the space port just as early morning workers commenced their tedious maintenance sweep. Two Autobot femmes clucked about some TV news program and Alpha Trion's obscure discussion of the Mars project. Their conversation changed to the Nemesis musical. I vowed to never see that show again.

Five fifty-seven A.M. No doubt Blaster, cup of energon in hand, climbed the stairs to his office. Hopefully someone from maintenance might stop him and strike up a conversation. Maybe the subject was something Blaster enjoyed enough to delay going into his office. I held my hope suspended like a selenium egg in the air as Op and I boarded the ship. Springer would kill me later. I snapped off all communication systems and flipped on the radar.

I never thought I'd be racing to escape my own city. I calculated the course for our destination and Optimus locked in weapons. I said nothing but hoped we didn't' have to use them.

Ignition.

We shot off, zipping across Metroplex's skyline.

"Skyfire to White Out. You are NOT authorized to enter Metroplex airspace. Land or you will be shot down."

My fuel lines ran cold. My lasercore vibrated hard. Op beside me flipped the com switch. "Skyfire, this is Optimus. I am aware we are departing without authorization... we simply cannot be tracked."

"Optimus, I'm sorry. I've been ordered by the CDA to shoot you down."

"Skyfire, ..." Op saw that fear choked me; I could not speak. He continued, "Skyfire, they are not Prime. Do you understand that?"

We waited as clouds converged across the Pacific ocean horizon. Optimus laid a hand on my shoulder. "We'll make it, Roddi," he promised. His words did not quell my fear. I melted, bowed over and wept. I would never see Metroplex the same way again.

Skyfire's voice came through communications, but it wasn't directed at us: "Metroplex, this is Commander Skyfire. I've lost the White Out in a fog bank. And it's raining pretty hard. I'll have to break off. Repeat, I've lost the White Out."

Another voice came over: "Skyfire, this is Springer. Do NOT engage the White Out! Don't you DARE scratch my ship!"

There was a smile in Skyfire's voice: "I hear you, Metroplex. I am returning to base. Over."

We achieved orbit then Earth space. Optimus instinctively knew how to navigate the ship to avoid scanners and buoys. He eased the White Out into a substream then handed control to the White Out's autopilot. It's twenty-six hours to the Decepticon base. I shuddered with emotional turmoil and felt guilty over such a weak display. Slumping in my seat, I tried to find something intellectual, enlightening and encouraging to say. "I didn't want you to think me a crybaby, Op."

Yeah, that was real enlightening.

Op rechecked our course. "You are not the only person who gets premonition, Rodimus. And you are certainly not the first person to mourn the disasters of the future." His expression read half sad, half devoid of any emotion. "At least you heeded the premonition."

I remained slumped, weighing his words. "Have you ever-" I caught his meaning and sat up. "Oh, geeze! Op! Did... did you have a premonition before your death?" He would not look at me. "Oh my god, you did, didn't you? You knew you were going to die. That's why you insisted on setting base on the two moons-and why you bought Earth property for Metroplex-"

Op adjusted the helm as we approached Mars and shot around Phoebe. "It's never a specified event, Roddi. Your premonition can't tell you exactly what will happen, but you can use it to be prepared."

I choked up again as cold settled in my extremities. "Does the feeling go away?"

He studied me and I wished I could read whatever went on in his head. "I always wanted it to." he replied.

It wasn't much comfort but at least it gave me the validation that I wasn't crazy or childish or stupid or the only person who suffered like this. "You know, Op," I said after a while, "I think I had a premonition before the Hate Plague. More than once, really. But I didn't know what to do with it. Know what I mean? I just knew that something big and bad was going to come knocking on our door. And I thought about evacuating part of the city, part of Metroplex to Cybertron. But I didn't see how that would prevent or ease the situation. I should have been better prepared."

"Rodimus, do not think for a micron that the Hate Plague was your fault. Sometimes things just go horribly wrong. I am not here because you were incompetent, but because you were resourceful and solved a problem by thinking outside the box. It is not, as you say, in our job description to be everything to everyone. 'Prime' is not synonymous with deity, no matter what Alpha Trion or anyone else purports. We're just a couple of 'guys' who got stuck with the toughest job on Cybertron."

That made me smile in spite of my drooping head. Optimus subtly suggested I take a short snooze. I resisted the perfect idea. If something happened, I needed to be alert. But his logic (we were pretty much out of reach) refuted my resistance and ten minutes later I was out like the dead.

"_Trapezius to Autobot ship, this is Onslaught at Space Control. Identify yourself or be shot."_

I woke a bit groggy and found Optimus laid his cloak over me as I rested. Onslaught's voice repeated as I mentally shoved my scattered processor back in order. I felt better, more at ease and refreshed. Optimus stared at me expectantly as I sat up and opened a communication channel. "Onslaught, this is Autobot cruiser White Out. I'm Rodimus Prime."

"_Greetings, Rodimus Prime."_

"Thanks. We request landing clearance for one ship, two passengers."

"_Landing clearance is granted, Rodimus Prime we are submitting coordinates now. Good to know you're visiting us again."_

"Heh, well, I'm here for the tea and cakes."

Optimus tilted his head, puzzled. "Is this where you go every so often, Rodimus?"

"Twice a month. And Cyclonus comes to Earth twice a month."

"But why the secrecy?"

I waited until the shuttle landed before answering. Removing my cloak and his, I rolled them up and set them aside. "Because Op, there are CDA members who don't think Decepticons are real people. To them, the only good Decepticon is either a enslaved Decepticon or a dead one." I opened the hatch and nodded outside. "Come on. I want you to meet some friends of mine."

We exited the White Out and encountered an excitable Ravage who jumped up on hind legs, greeting us with a snort. The cyber-kitty made three tight circles as though chasing his tail. I was glad I kept a small ration of energon goodies on hand. I held the goodie aloft and Ravage stared at it like an obedient, attentive dog.

"Come get it, kitty," I egged. "I hoped kitty would do a secret trick with Op watching. To my delight, Ravage came up, set his teeth over the energon chip then let go and kissed my nose instead. I gave Ravage two for being such a good sport. I grinned at Op who remained emotionally unmoved.

"Did you teach him that, Rodimus, or did he teach you?"

Cyclonus' deep resonate voice toned from my right, "I asked him the same question three months ago. I still cannot get a straight answer."

I plastered on a shit-eating grin. "Hi, Cyclonus. You guys know each other, right? Op, Cyc. Cyc, Op, Roddi, be quiet."

Cyclonus offered to shake Op's hand and although he hesitated, Op took it. I smiled, glad that he trusted me enough to accept people I also trusted.

"Shall we retire to the Commons Room? We're about to Pass Between and it's interesting to watch the atmospheric colors, but it tends to throw the sensory inputs for a loop."

I grinned with approval. Op was going to love this. We chased Cyclonus to a sturdy collection of out-buildings. From there we hitch-hiked an elevator two stories up and into the Commons Room, a transparent enclosure that served as a look-out and a showpiece for guests.

We sank into a comfortable seating area facing a clean wall of titanium glass sheets. The wall resembled Optimus' office except they designed the transparent titanium to withstand stuff like plasma fire, plasma radiation (don't ask) and micro meteors. Behind our couch-and-chairs area, a large fountain climbed up from the floor. But rather than water tumbling from colored bowls, glass-blown cupped hands and puddled in a shallow pool, the fall consisted of mercury. It looked like liquid mirrors.

Cyclonus requested refreshments for us as we settled before the windows. "You look worn out, Rodimus," he observed.

I didn't know what to tell him. But Op kindly kicked in for me. "We've had a difficult week."

"Oh?" Cyclonus scanned from him to me.

I cast my optics upon the volatile landscape outside the window, so glad to be among people I trusted. That easy-going smile slipped over my face. "Eh. Not much more than the usual. I nabbed a bad guy off the streets, got involved in a shouting match with Magnus, organized an escape plan and had an emotional melt down in front of Op. Par for the course."

Lightning flashed and snatched our attention as someone brought in a tray bearing three goblets of energon. Another bolt struck, flashing the world in yellow and red color.

"Ooh!" a Decepticon femme reacted. "That's a nice one!"

Op stared at her, surprised. "Rodimus, I-I don't recall... " He looked confused and guilty for it.

I smacked my forehead with my palm. "I never told you, did I?" A roll of clamourous thunder resonated across the asteroid. "Op, this is uh-"

"Vomica." she bowed just slightly. It wasn't the first time I forgot her name.

"Right. Uh, see, uh," I was cut off when another strip of jagged, crinkled lightning struck the air.

Op turned from her to the windows as thunder succeeded the bright yellow-orange display. "Living here must be dangerous," he remarked.

Cyclonus looked pleased. "We like it here. There's a rich, endless source of energy. There's plenty of room to fly and there's enough for everyone to do."

I cut in: "The Decepticons collect energy from the lightning, Op. "We're in the area where they process it."

He watched the storm a moment longer. "I have never seen lightning colored like that."

"The atmosphere is super-charged with various ions from hydrogen to zinc. Each lightning strike hits a different cloud of gas and ignites the ion, creating the colors."

After another few moments Op looked at me. "I'm sorry, Roddi. You were going to tell me about Vomica."

"Yeah. The Decepticon femmes uhh..." I realized that I did not know where to begin. Fortunately, Cyclonus took up the task:

"Actually, Optimus, they came to us. Once news spread that Megatron and Shockwave were both dead, we encountered several groups of defectors seeking us. But they were soon as dissatisfied with Galvatron as they were with Megatron."

Op's usual confusion crept up and I hoped I'd not have to break the story down later. "Yet, you are now the Decepticon leader, Cyclonus. How did you get Galvatron to relinquish power?"

Cyclonus smiled, pleased with the question. "When Rodimus Prime used the Matrix to cure the Hate Plague, the Matrix cured Galvatron of his madness. He became rational enough to realize there was more at stake than his drive for power. One group of defectors were mostly of female Decepticons. They abandoned Cybertron at the beginning of Megatron's reign. They told us either Galvatron stepped down or they'd leave or seek to eliminate us.'

'Galvatron agreed to their terms with the condition that I be the one in charge. I knew we needed more than just an agreement between parties and a place to reside. So I asked Rodimus to help us reform our society from the ground up."

Op set his optics on me, very pleased. "That explains why you've had to leave once a week."

"It's been tough," I admitted. "There have been problems. A lot of them."

I did not wish to embarrass Cyclonus by going into detail but he did so at his own discretion: "We've had to eliminate some non-conforming Decepticons. Not everyone likes change. And I will not tolerate troublemakers."

I lightly smacked my head. "That reminds me. I have something I need to talk with you about, Cyclonus. That shape shifter? You were right."

"Shape shifter?" Op repeated. "Roddi? You've not mentioned anything about a shape shifter."

I grinned, knowing I looked very guilty.

Cyclonus leaned forward, arms on legs. "Because, Optimus Prime, we suspect Trion is in on it."

"On what?"

I answered: "On the Mars-thing, Op. We came to the same conclusion that you did: it's more than a mining operation." I turned to Cyclonus, "by the way, apparently I sighed a rule that all breeding done at the Mars facility must be done under supervision."

"What?" Cyclonus narrowed his optics. "Now they're all voyeurs?"

"Pfffp. I guess!" I half-smiled, surprised Cyclonus made such a remark. I glanced at Op whose expression was locked in consternation. "Hey," I called softly. "You're thinking too hard; it's wearing you out." I laid a hand on his arm.

He wearily shook his head. "It's difficult to keep up with everything, Roddi."

"You're right, Op. Stuff's been a bit wacky lately. And you and I haven't really slept very good, have we?" He frowned and found interest outside the windows. "Optimus," I said quietly, "we're gonna fix this. We are. I promise." I sent a concerned expression to Cyclonus. "Is there a place he can crash for a while?"

Like the amazing professional he was, Cyclonus stood as another femme entered the room. She cordially greeted us, but smiled at Optimus.

"This is Akhal," Cyclonus said more to Op than me. "She'd be happy to prepare quarters for you if you wish to go."

Op stood and I with him. I read subtle uncertainty in his optics. "I know Akhal," I said with a touch of enthusiasm. "She's the local history buff around here. She could show you around the complex here if you'd like, Op. I don't want you to feel you have to do everything I say."

"I'm just worried for you, Rodimus. That's all."

I embraced him tightly, pressing my head close to his. "I am _so_ lucky to have you!" I said quietly. I wanted to add that I felt better now that we were on Trpezius. But he needed rest. I let go and nodded toward Akhal. "Go on. She's a nice girl and knows everything here." Op stepped away and to my delight, he took her outstretched hand. He was going to be okay and it made me feel better.

As they left, I settled back in the chair and prepared to tell Cyclonus everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Electing Hell

Optimus lagged behind Akhal, burdened with concern for Rodimus. Roddi was right; they were both exhausted. Optimus had not rested in three days; Rodimus in a week.

Akhal paused and found her charge several yards away. She caught back with him and attempted a visual assessment. "I am sorry, Optimus Prime," she said kindly. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Optimus shook his head. "I'm merely distracted. I am impressed and amazed by what you've accomplished. No one realizes or knows how far the Decepticons have come over the decades." Optimus paused as he read the femme's soft red optics. Her entire attention fixated on him. Some Autobot femmes could not stand still long enough to distinguish someone's paint job. But this _lady_ Decepticon carried herself with calculated ease.

She smiled, pleased rather than flattered. "We have a good and sensible leader. And we are aided by a gracious Autobot leader who is genuinely concerned for us. It would be dishonorable to repay evil when we have received so much good."

"I am pleased that Rodimus is the emissary I could not be."

"If the situation were different, I have no doubt you would do the very same, Optimus." He nodded and tried to suppress guilt from his expression. Akhal caught and understood his reaction and scrutinized him. "You say one thing, Optimus Prime, but you mean to say something else, or something more." Caught like a child doing something wrong, the city director sent his gaze elsewhere.

"I'm sorry," Akhal quickly amended. "I meant no embarrassment. I was merely making an observation."

"You are correct in your assessment, Akhal,' he confessed. "It's just that when I recall of my life prior to my death, it doesn't seem I accomplished very much"

"Then today is your lucky day. I am a historian and I should very much be pleased to tell you a few things about your administration. I was not there personally, but I've taken liberty to do a good deal of research on my own time." she led him down the hall and grinned at Soundwave as he passed them. "Tell me, Optimus, what would you like me to tell you about first?"

Optimus took the offer under intense consideration as the lady Decepticon guided him three levels down and into a corridor. Glass panels lined the walls, giving view to the outside world. A space-dusted plateau rose from a canyon and glittered with chunks of pyrite.

Akhal opened the first door on the right. A large comfortable room spread before them, resembled more a motel room than standard soldier's quarters.

"I hope this will be all right." she said, "It's set up for Rodimus when he visits."

Emptiness dragged Optimus into despair. Memories strangled any hope of personal tranquility. He turned to Akhal. "I think I'd like to know something about Elita-One.

I watched Op leave, hoping he'd find peaceful sleep. I wished I could shut down without haunting dreams. It worries Op that I don't' rest well. I reminded myself to tell him to stop fussing like an old hen; it's not healthy for him.

Cyclonus lined the rim of his goblet of energon. "You need not worry, Rodimus. Akhal is our secondary communications officer; very good with public relations among us. She's also rather fond of Optimus and will treat him kindly."

I dragged my optics from the door to my ally and forced a tired smile. "That obvious, huh?" He did not respond. "Mars," I said, switching subjects without preamble.

"Yes?"

I drew a blank; I had little to nothing to say about Mars because I brooded over the false signatures. I remembered the one pad I brought with me and decided to switch seats, sitting closer to my ally. "Cyc, forget Mars. Look, I'm sure you've already figured out I'm not here with Op so he can go sight seeing."

Cyclonus' lip components curved just a fraction above the no-emo line. "That's what I like about you, Rodimus; you don't insult my intellect." I could not tell if he was being facetious or not. "Please," he added, "continue."

"Okay. A couple days ago, we've found digipads forged with my signature-well, Op found several digipads with forged signatures."

Cyclonus looked genuinely disconcerted. "Forged signatures? How?"

"I don't know. And I've taken the pads to Perceptor and he says the pads have not been tampered with. Magnus took other pads to another expert and found the same thing." I handed Cyclonus the digipad. "I don't know what to do. I panicked. I shouldn't have, but I did. I-" my head froze just recalling the dread and I re-rechecked the dreaded premonition.

It was the same.

Cyclonus' quiet baritone droned through the room. "This does appear suspicious."

"Cyclonus, I forgot to mention something: That shape shifter-I caught it; turned out to be a Quintesson."

"How do Quintessons fit into this equation?"

My guess is on that pad. They own Iridic Enterprises and they're using Human labor on Mars."

"What's this about water acquisition from Earth to Cybertron?"

"What?" I leaned over to see what puzzled Cyc over and found Op's clean handwriting all over the report. "I don't know. I hadn't looked at it."

Here Optimus Prime mentions a series of canisters containing radioactive materials in which the water was shipped."

"May I see that?" I took the pad back and read Op's comments at each point in the report.

_Trion proclaims a water shortage on Cybertron._

_ Assign Streetwise to privately investigate the truth._

_ Trion claims he's tried for months to get Rodimus to negotiate water rights from the Antarctic-no process work to prove Trion's claims in Roddi's files._

_ Trion skirts the issue before lying about 'specialized' batteries. Fact check: batteries based on metallic plutonium._

I grinned. One thing I loved most about my friend: he was thorough. As I read further, I found a highlighted notation stating the canisters-as reported by Streetwise-never made it to Cybertron. They were redirected to Mars.

And the order came under my signature. I handed the damn pad back to Cyclonus and paced. My head flip-flopped between indecision and anger. Finally facing my friend. I watched him examine the tablet. "I want to know what the heck is going on at Mars. I want to know exactly what they're doing."

Cyclonus sat straighter-if that were possible, and scrutinized my optics. "I don't recommend you go alone, if you go at all. I understand you are a hands-on type, Rodimus. But going to Mars may not be wise."

I sat on the table in front of him. "I'm already nailed, Cyclonus. I know that. I know that if I return either to Cybertron or Earth, the CDA will arrest me and have me tried for treason." I drew one breath to steady myself. "And I can't shake the feeling that something horrible is about to happen."

I sent my gaze toward the back end of the room. Trapezius dipped into its three-hour 'night time;' a point where it faced neither Jupiter, IO or the sun. "I have to get rid of Trion." I finally decided. "They will declare me a murderer. But I know what he's done to get where he is. And Cyclonus, he's manuvered the CDA central point location to Metroplex." I stood and confronted the windows as the sky turned to a rich sullen red.

"Then all the more reason for you to suspect the forgeries, Rodimus." Cyclonus settled back, equally as deep in thought.

"But yet," I continued, "what will happen if Trion gets to me before I get to him? What will happen to the Autobots? To Metroplex? To Optimus?"

I did not see the Decepticon leader smile at the corners. "We will take care of Optimus Prime." Cyclonus stood but I could not face him, emotional distress cut the words from me. "Rodimus," his voice fell to a tone I found soothing. "You have been our greatest ally and advocate at the risk of treason. You have taken the responsibility not only for Autobot welfare, but ours. How could we do anything less for you? If something were to happen-and Primus forbid that it might-but if it did, I will certainly step in."

I could not suppress my smile and now I faced him. "You're willing to be our calvary, Cyclonus? Coming to our rescue in the nick of time?"

It took him a moment to reference the word 'calvary' from American history but he caught it and nodded. Then he shook his head. "We're not riding horses, Rodimus."

"Hahaha! No, I'd not expect that. Not your style. How about stampeding Dinobots instead?"

"Mmmm ... Only if they've been through obedience school."

Cyclonus submitted the tablet to Soundwave for closer examination. I did not think the Decepticon communications officer could come up with any better an explanation than Perceptor.

When Soundwave indicated it'd be a while before he found anything, I decided to hit my 'motel room' and crash a while.

I found Optimus sleeping soundly on the flat. Akhal met me at the door and dragged me outside the room. "He's finally asleep."

"I noticed. I was about to take a nap myself."

"What happened to the little girl?"

'Uh ... oh, Rusti?"

Akhal nodded. "Was she related to him?"

I thought it was funny but then realized Akhal might be thinking Rusti was an Autobot. "She was Daniel Witwicky's daughter. Op ... " I frowned. "Well, it's kinda hard to explain, really. He deeply cared about her-"

Akhal nodded. "He loved her and she died."

"Yeah."

Akhal nodded again. "He asked about Elita."

"He did? What did you tell him?"

"I gave him the history, who she was, what she did."

"What about their relationship?"

Akhal shook her head. "He understands. Bu the doesn't feel anything. To him, that was someone else's life. And then he told me about Rusti."

She brought him to life, Akhal. I mean, he was _happy_ and doing unbelievably well in therapy and when she died, someone turned the lights out inside him. Know what I mean? It's frustrating because I can't fix it. Were it not for Sameko, I think Op would just be a shell."

She fell somber, her gaze dropped to the floor then back to me. "Get some rest, Rodimus. I will see you tomorrow."

I gave a weak smile. I liked Akhal. She was brilliant and considerate. But she was not a little girl with bouncy hair and a sweet giggle.

I crashed pretty hard and woke six hours later all alone with a headache. I immediately contacted Cyclonus. "I have a missing city director."

"I'll be right there, Rodimus."

Cyclonus helped me find Op as Akhal escorted my friend from one level of the complex to another. The professional tour, to her was more about showing off rather than sticking to the facts. It pleased me that the Decepticons were honestly happy in their hostile environment. Here, they were conquerors of a complex and untamed environment. Akhal always asked about Optimus and though I felt skeptical with a Decepticon interested in an Autobot, it made me happy the Decepticons accepted Optimus without judgement. But Op wasn't the same person now. I hoped Akhald was not disappointed.

We found Op and Akhal in Level Four of the complex. Here the Decepticons mined precious lithium gases from the asteroid to grow crab glass, a crystalized mineral considered a delicacy by natives in a star system I can never annunciate. But the Decepticons make a good (and honest) profit growing the plant-like minerals. It's a hazardous process-the type of challenge the 'cons love because part of it involves a Bryalision morath-a nasty scaley creature that spits acid. The acid is used to age the minerals. From what Cyc tells me, the morath are hideously ill-tempered and tricky to deal with.

At the moment, Akhal and Op hung examined one of thousands of caches as operators used specially-treated automatic arms to lift the crab glass from a steamy mineral bath into a vat of calcium-silico polymer.

"Hey!" I teased, "hey aren't the two of you supposed to be working? No one said it was lunch time yet!"

Akhal beamed. "Optimus woke restless. So I'm taking him on a tour. You are welcomed to join us, Rodimus Prime."

I folded my arms. "Oh yeah? Do souvenirs come with the field trip?" Op looked to me and wow, he even smiled. I leaned against the railing. "And you, young Autobot, did you get your parent's permission to go?"

Akhal leaned close to Optimus and took his arm. I thought I witnessed a miracle. Op smiled again. "I played hooky from civics and stowed away on the bus. How much detention am I looking at, Roddi?"

"Mm... probably until you 're old enough to date, Op. And how come you always get the girl? I want a girl."

I caught that subtle mischievous look in his optics. "Arcee has offered, Roddi."

I feigned horror. "You are so mean to me!" I turned to Cyclonus. "Will you be my girlfriend?" I managed not to laugh when the regal and always-so-proper Cyclonus lost all expression.

I insisted Akhal finish the tour. I wanted Optimus to see everything not because I had a hand in it, but because the Decepticons came such a long way in such a short time. Under Cyclonus, they were a well-organized young society that found their place among the civilized peoples.

It did not mean the Decepticons turned into kittens. They were still the 'rough-and tumble' sort not to be messed with. But all that energy and temperament was harnessed into more productive means. They quickly became the quadrant's most impressive weapons manufacturers. Even Quintesson know-how could not match Decepticon craftsmanship, technology-or the metal work.

We retired after eight more levels of tour. There were yet four more but both Op and I were exhausted and I wanted to rest again before figuring out what to do next. And being more at ease, both Op and I slept better.

*

Some Autobots believe that if you wake to remember a dream that leaves you unsettled, it means someone has spoken to you across time and reality. Don't ask me. I don't come up with stuff like that. But when Cyclonus woke me to tell me about an event on Cybertron, I recalled living in a short but beautiful dream.

It's somewhat ironic that it was about a girl, but not an Autobot femme. And she was three different ages at the same time. I loved to hear her laugh but I did not get her name. She spoke, but I couldn't make out what she said. I remember sunshine and handpicked flowers and pictures drawn by little hands.

She knew me. The dream was nice, but I felt weird.

Then I saw Cyclonus' mug in my face that's enough to wake anyone.

"What's up?" I sat up with a shudder, unable to get the girl out of my noggin.

"You need to see this." I followed Tall Dark and Grim two levels down into the communication center. All Cyclonus' heads of staff occupied the room-including Galvatron who is now chief of security and front-lines detail.

Mounted at the back wall hung a large televisor, larger than the one we broke in Op's office. IPN (Interplanetary Network) interviewed an Autobot analyst on some current event. I strained to hear above the quiet chatter between Rumble and a Sweep.

Soundwave's creepy monotone voice ordered the midget to silence as the news switched scenes to Cybertron where a great mushroom of smoke and debris floated in the atmosphere and spread like a gauze of death.

That scene cut to a newsroom where Autobot Verbumous switched one digipad for another, his countenance grim._ "That was Council Elder Orcus from Canis Providence just south east of Iaacon. Once again, the reactor core in the city Aipys has blown and obliterated some number estimated in the two hundred thousand on Cybertron. That number, by the way, is not only of Autobots but includes Humans and other extra-solar visitors. We would caution anyone at this point not to go near Aipys while emergency workers and authorities race to find and rescue survivors. We turn now to our Metroplex correspondent, Priscilla Levonson."_

_"Verbumous, Metroplex is on high alert and I have it on very good word that Rodimus Prime is nowhere to be found."_

Verbumous came on split screen and I watched the area behind Priscilla Levonson as Autobots and EDC officers checked in and out. The reporter herself stood to the side of the first exit gate-the same place where I met up with Arcee a couple weeks before.

Verbumous leaned closer to his desk. _"Have you heard anything from City Commander Ultra Magnus?"_

Priscilla pushed her earpiece a little closer to her head. _"Verbumous, no I have not. But I have been told the city will shut all its gates and entrances in ten minutes and they have grounded all aircraft-"_ she bowed her head a moment and closed her eyes, listening to her earpiece. I waited as my laser core stopped vibrating. People walked behind her, rushed and concerned. I asked myself if this disaster on Cybertron was the event the premonition warned me about.

No.

No?

NO?!

The death of thousands of Autobots wasn't the catastrophe? As I waited for the news reporter, I realized that the future event I dreaded was going to be much, much worse.

Priscilla lifted her head. _"Verbumous, I-I can't believe what I'm hearing, but they said there are sightings of Quintesson ships landing on Mars-there are Quintessons-and Cybertron has now gone to full alert._"

I looked away and tried to decide what to do. I brought Op here because I knew it'd be safe but I didn't know from what. Now I felt like a coward, a child running to his neighbor's house because he thought a boogeyman lurked in his bedroom.

Cyclonus approached. He waited for a break in the news then gazed at me, the Autobot head-honcho with all the answers. He said nothing as his optics contacted Galvatron. Cyclonus nodded toward a small ready room. I followed, anticipating the worst. Galvatron tagged behind and once inside, he locked the door.

With crossed arms, Cyclonus bore optics at me like a drill. "It's a trap."

I didn't think I heard right. "What?"

"He's correct, Rodimus Prime," Galvatron agreed. He sat at the corner of the only table behind Cyclonus.

"The timing is coincidental. Optimus noted how they were storing water in tubes normally used for explosives."

Galvatron added again: "All they needed to do on Cybertron was add hydrochloric acid to the mix and drop it on the reactor."

"But why? Why kill thousands of people?"

They answered at the same time: "To get your attention."

"Well, they sure have it."

"It would be unwise to go now, Rodimus," Cyclonus insisted.

"And irresponsible if I don't." I countered.

Galvatron stood (and geeze,) took on Cyclonus' posture. "Let me take a few Sweeps and investigated exactly what's going on at Mars first."

"Hah! Mars?" I said incredulously. "What has Mars got to do with it?"

Cyclonus produced the one digipad. "Obviously more than we've had time to decipher."

I could not think. I could not decide to believe them or the idea that the accident was just an accident. "Alright," I challenged, "let's play devil's advocate. What if I don't show up?"

The two Decepticons exchanged doubtful expressions and frowns. I glanced at the ceiling, though I did not look at it. "You know, as well as I, if it's no accident then another one will happen unless I show up. More people will die."

"Rodimus, if you go, you will most certainly be arrested and charged with treason."

"And do you know how that can be prevented?" I waited four beats. Cyclonus was way smart. Probably smarter than anyone else I know. But even he did not have an immediate answer. "Okay. Here's what we'll do. I'll go back. You guys take a look at Mars, get your proof and then if I need it, come save my butt." I paused. "And one more thing?"

They glued their optics on me and I got the image of a pair of vultures staring, expecting me to play with them. I suppressed a wince. "Would you... would you keep an optic on Op? I'd feel better if I could leave him here."

Cyclonus gave me that subtle but honest smile. "Of course."

I did not leave without telling Op. But the long dreadful walk weighed me down with each step. A jillion things ran through my head. I felt as though everything in my life from inception to the point of the future catastrophe led me to this particular moment. I did not know why. Pausing before the door, I reflected upon the decision, this one of two evils.

I knew Cyclonus was right. But then, me too. If I did not go, I'd be safe and sound in Decepticon territory. If I did not go, thousands more people would die. It's not something I could live with. And if I went-Primus, I felt smothered with dread. I took a deep cold breath and stuck to the plan. I am the Autobot leader. Like it or not, my job demanded I faced my appointed destiny.

I opened the door and entered. The room welcomed me with a dim warm light and hints of musical chimes quietly playing. Op lay face-down, sleeping soundly. I felt badly having to wake him, but I'd feel worse if I left without saying good-bye.

To my relief, Op woke on his own. He spotted me and slowly sat up. I joined him at the side of the berth and smiled. He said nothing, forcing me to turn to consternation. "What?"

"I take it you're here to tell me you've decided we need to head back."

"Mmm. Not exactly." I paused, weighing his non-committed expression. "Uh. _I'm_ heading to Cybertron, Op. There's um, there's been an accident. It's pretty bad. Cybertron and Metroplex are on high alert."

"And they're looking for you," he finished.

"You could say that, yeah."

"Roddi, don't go."

"You know, Op, that's _exactly_ what Cyclonus and Galvatron said."

"Well, then listen to them, Roddi. You said you sensed something terrible was going to happen."

"And something has." I insisted. "Look, Op, I want you to stay here. Stay with Cyclonus. I'd feel better knowing you're with someone I trust."

"Let me come. I can help-"

"No!" I said a bit hastily. "No. No, Op. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don't trust anything that's going on. Between the forged signatures and stuff you've found on Mars-"

"It adds to a set-up, Rodimus."

"Exactly-"

"-all the greater reason for staying here."

"Op. An entire city just blew on Cybertron I have to go." He had no rebuttal. He knew. Leadership responsibilities first and foremost no matter what the price tag said. "Promise me you'll stay with the Decepticons." He did not look at me. I laid a hand on his shoulder. "Op. Promise me you'll stay with the Decepticons."

He shot his optics at me. "Promise me you'll stay alive."

"Oh for Primus'-"

"Rodimus! Do not leave me to fend for myself against Trion's and Arcee's irritating visits!"

"Hah!"

But Op tilted his head in _that_ manner; he was dead serious. I held up my hands. "Okay, okay. I promise if you do. Deal?" he did not answer because he did not trust me _that far_. "Okay," I surrendered. "I promise to do my best to stay alive as long as you promise to stay with the Decepticons. How's that?"

He frowned, unimpressed. "Not perfect. But it will do."

I stood to go. "Remind me to never get involved in an auction war with you, Optimus. You don't fight fair." He stood and we embraced. I never realized before how good it was to hug him. I tightened my grip. His fears and doubts reflected mine.

As much as I hurt, I refused to say good-bye.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

REVERSE CONSPIRACY

The familiarity of ruins in Aipys greeted us by a sinister, creepy silence. The city staggered with desolation. Not that I've ever been to this particular place on Cybertron but the sight sharply reminded me of other times and far away places following disastrous battles. The dead city smouldered with residual violence. The living lay butchered where they worked and lived. Gaping holes yawned where great buildings once stood.

Returning home to Metroplex after defeating Unicron left me with profound sadness. Not because Autobot City sustained such terrible damage, but that so many Autobots died during the Decepticon attack; Autobots I grew up with.

I specifically remembered Bluestreak's death. It burned my core every time I thought about it. Bluestreak died heroically. But the agony he suffered... I'm not sure anyone knew the extent of Insecticon morbidity. I made certain they ended up the same number of pieces they left Bluestreak.

An optic for an optic.

I was neither sorry nor really surprised to learn Cyclonus had them executed immediately following his rise to leadership.

As I stood at the ragged remains of a broken highway, I heard the sound of rumbling engines, spitting and snarling toward me. Three different individuals transformed from animalistic vehicles, sleek and menacing. I faced them with a sober expression. One member of the 'welcoming committee' was Dynamix, the self-proclaimed representative for this section of Cybertron; a member of the CDA.

"Where the PITT have you been?" he demanded. "We're having a crisis and you just show up whenever, wherever."

"I was attending other business."

"Like filthy slag you were!"

I decided he wasn't worth getting mad over. "Who's in charge? I want to know where-"

"Well, obviously it's not _you_, Rodimus Prime," he snarled. "Kaktus, if you please?" Dynamix stood back while his two goons advanced toward me. They hesitated, apprehensive. Dynamix produced a hand-held digipad and rattled off like an accountant: "Rodimus Prime, you are under arrest for suspicion of treason and destruction of Autobot City Aipys."

"Okay," I replied. "You keep telling yourself that."

"As an esteemed and honorary member of the Cybertronian Defense Administration, I charge you with desertion of duty and post. You are charged with hostility toward your benefactors and superiors. You are under arrest for absence without leave or permission by any officer. You are charged with suspicion of conspiracy against the Administration, conspiracy against the peoples of Earth, Cybertron and Metroplex."

Dynamix's playmates attacked. I kicked one away and punched the second. Goon Number One rolled with the kick, shifted into a high-powered, non-terrestrial racer and came back. Number Two (Kaktus) transformed under my next strike and caught me off balance.

I recovered the lost step and used his body as leverage. I leapt over Kaktus and his buddy collided into him. Landing in front of Dynamix, I kicked the digipad from his hands, kneed his chin followed by a cuff to the helm. I touched ground before his guard dogs caught up. Jarring an elbow into Dynamix's neck I used his body as a shield. "HEY!" I barked. "Back off, cracker jack or I'll deep fry your Master into Quintesson fish-bits!"

Kaktus and his companion gave each other a doubtful look. I was a Prime, right? I'd never do stuff like that. But to prove my point, I drew enough life fluids from Mr. Self-Important to show I meant business.

Dynamix squirmed and wibbled like a whipped dog. "Stand up," I growled. "He obeyed and I moved behind him.

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" Having lost his courage in the face of captivity, the Mighty Council Elder whimpered. I doubted he fought a single day in his life.

"You?" I said, "You're going to leave your doggies here. No pet in the park." I lowered the charge on my arm weapons and shot Kaktus first. Dynamix flinched and sobbed. I held him more tightly. "Say good night, Gracie." I gunned down Goon Number One.

"Aaaagghhh!" Dynamix squirmed until I wrapped the crook of my arm round his neck. He fought but did not have my strength. He melted, bawling like a little kid who lost his toy. "Don't kill me, Rodimus Prime, I beg you!"

"Awe, knock it off. I didn't kill your bodyguards."

"Trion was right! You've gone Dark! You've turned into that nightmare!"

I started walking, half-dragging Mr. Pathetic with me. "What a surprise. He tried the same B.S. with Op. Problem is, Op's a hell of a lot smarter than you. So who's in charge and which way do we go?"

Dynamix pointed nine miles due west of Aipys' smouldering remains. He begged me to take clearer paths around the city. But since he was a bureaucrat, I thought he deserved nothing less than the best. So we toured through the thickest, worst part of the ruins.

No power, no light and no life. A thick coating of ash blanketed the fresh ruins like soft grey snow. Not one building stood unmarred by the explosion. I made double sure we walked on every body shell, chassis and carcass I encountered. Dynamix was never going to forget this tour.

"I can't believe you'd be this heartless and cruel!" he whined. "How could you be so mean as to make me walk on all these dead people? Have you no sense of propriety? Why are you making me walk through the city? My feet hurt and I'm tired. You're so heartless and cruel! I'm hungry. I'm dirty! Oh please, let's not walk on another body!"

I think if Aipys had been one more mile longer, Dynamix would have liquified into a puddle of self-pity. My only answer was "Yeah, well, this is how I grew up. Now you've had a first-hand account. Welcome to war."

At the next bend, the command camp came into view.

"Oh!" Dynamix all but wept with joy. "Oh thank Primus! Oh, but no, surely you're not planning on killing everyone there!'

"You are really pathetic." I hissed.

I let him go. Dynamix raced off, hoping, no doubt, to warn the camp of my approach. Several would-be heros decided to demonstrate their loyalty with powered weapons. As I came up the slope, I found Dynamix lying face down, crying and cringing and whining about what horrors he just been through. Half those guns that pointed at the elder swung about face in my direction.

A sturdy figure joined the party and called the troopers off. "Knock it off you morons. Everyone stand down." The voice belonged to a tough, heavy-built mech with the transform of an armored carrier. He stomped and pushed his way past rigid, nervous Autobot soldiers.

Captain Aces Six eyed them with large glaring optics until several soldiers slunk off. Those four who remained took Dynamix into camp custody, leaving me alone with my friend. Aces Six turned with as big a crushing hug as he could deal. "Roddi!"

I grinned lopsided. "I'm beat. Mind if I park it someplace for a few minutes?"

"Step this way, soldier," he said cheerfully, "We have our own Motel 6 just down the hillside." Aces led me across their camp. Loosely constructed of flimsy, small shelters, officers, soldiers and survivors worked and huddled outside the rubble of what was a nice town. Suspicion and hopelessness pinned me as I followed Aces to his tactical room.

We ducked into a temporary shelter lined by corrugated tin walls, a narrow recharge berth on one side and a rickety conference/plotting table on the other.

Aces Six cleared the less messier side and proffered a old stool for me and one for himself. Then he poured two small cups of energon. "What the Pitt sharks brought you here looking less than prepared?" "Situation recon."

"They say you've defected." I grunted in my cup. "They say you're responsible for the contracts on Mars."

"Yeah, I heard _that_ one."

"And now they're blaming you for this accident."

"I've been on Trapezius." I wondered if Aces bought the lies himself. Was he holding me here to buy time?

"You know, Roddi, Trion is just short of putting a price on your head."

"A-a-a-and what if he's the one responsible? What if I told you this was a set up to draw me out? What then?"

Six hesitated then drained his cup. "You're talking about a coup."

"Yes I am."

"That's treason."

"Yes it is."

"Can he-would he really do it?"

I shrugged. "The Administration has their own militia. Trion pretty much heads the Administration. Op found a military installation in Metroplex's blueprints. You tell me."

Aces stood and removed both our cups. "I will tell you, Rodimus. Go back to Trapezius. It isn't safe for you anymore."

I scoffed. "I dealt with a _planet eater_, Aces. What's a coup compared to that?"

"It's much easier when your enemy is on the outside, Rodimus."

I stared hard at Aces Six and kept thinking. "How many people died here?"

"Total? Forty-six hundred."

"When did the explosion take place?"

"Officially? Ohh... three AM Earth Pacific Standard." He stared until an idea hit him. Aces' face reflected realization. "Metroplex is mostly asleep at three AM."

"For a total of forty-five minutes," I added.

"Long enough-"

"-to move an army in without tripping any alarms."

"Holy Primus! This _was_ a distraction!" Aces cried.

"Damn straight." I stood to go when Aces Six blocked my way.

"Wait. You shouldn't go alone."

"Anyone who comes with me will automatically be counted guilty by association-that _includes you_, Six. Besides, I need someone I can count on to handle things here." I kept my optics stern.

Aces extended a hand and relented. "I don't have to like it, Rodimus. But I get your point."

I affectionately hit him when our hands clasped. "Take care of them," I said, meaning the Autobots. He nodded in compliance.

"And keep Dynamix off my spoiler."

"Hah! We'll give him dishes duty!"

I left Cybertron, heavy with sorrow.

The command camp space bridge parcel-posted me from Aipys to Earth more quickly than I wanted. It would have been fabulous to have three entire minutes to concoct some plan of action.

But nope. I was so ill-prepared that the second I stepped off the dias, Trion saluted me with his "Rodimus Special" right-cross.

Neither my body nor my mouth got the chance to retaliate. Swiss and Notch stapled me down. Their knees firmly pinched my extremities while they grinded my face into the flooring. Trion allowed Notch to sucker punch me when I resisted.

"Primus damn you, Rodimus." Trion snarled. "Just who do you think you are? Where the Pitt have you been? And where is your zombie servant? Hmm?" He paced like a tiger selecting its next strike. Swiss clamped me with energo cuffs as Trion squatted in front of me. We made optical contact. He leered. I blew him a kiss before his pit bulls hauled me off the ground.

Trion remained scrunched a moment longer, head bowed, shoulders slumped forward. He stood with a revised attitude. "Rodimus, I love you. But you are intolerantly stubborn. And like a wayward child, I am forced to deal with you in tough love. It's for your own good."

I remembered what Op said a few weeks ago and my mouth got the best of me: "Trion, Op is right. You suffer from Matrix envy."

He brightened, his expression lit with sarcasm. "My, my, Rodimus! Your pet has more insight than I give him credit for! I'd really like to know which kennel you're keeping him in." Now his face darkened. "It's time to put him down."

"Um, I sorta let him stay the night at a friend's house. I thought Uncle Trion was turning into a dirty old mech and figured Op would be safer elsewhere."

"Mm. Notch, remove the cuffs."

"Sir?"

Trion curtly nodded and Notch obeyed, disappointed. Just that moment later Magnus stampeded toward us in truck mode. A congregation of reporters tagged about the city commander like a cluster of baby ducks.

Kup, Sixshot and Twin Twist hemmed the outer edges of our new-found fan club. All of them stared at me with icicles in their optics. All the Human reporters and two Autobot journalists mobbed us with mics, cameras and a trillion questions. Trion pivoted and stood beside me, one hand on my shoulder. He turned stiffly regal and I plastered on my favorite public grin. Distractions were beautiful things.

Magnus called my name while camera flashes blotted me and Trion. Reporters clucked questions, jotted notes and ticked off events into their mics. Once again the press saved me from a bad moment. So, ignoring Magnus until the right moment, I gave the reporters a more generous grin and isolated Loni Carlson. I held up a hand for the throng to be silent then pointed to her.

"Hi! Gotta question?"

"Rodimus Prime, it's assumed you've been to Cybertron. How is the situation there?"

"Fairly grim," I replied immediately. "Services are getting to survivors but it's difficult. The command camp is working as fast as they can."

"Any idea how the catastrophe happened?"

"It's still under investigation currently headed by Autobot Chief Aces Six and his troop."

"And what plans does Metroplex have in dealing with the situation?"

Trion cut in, stepping in front of me. "Our humble city here is currently rushing supplies, equipment and hands to assist Aces Six and his brave band. They've all worked countless hours straight, determined to rescue as many of our dear Human friends and Autobots as possible. This is certainly a dark hour for both our peoples and I hope fervently that this tragedy will serve only to bind our two worlds together. After all, where would we be without our Human friends?"

I side-stepped an inch at a time so that all cameras were given to Trion. Microstepping backward, I traded places with Swiss who, fortunately, was not as bright as Notch. He gladly replaced me at Trion's left shoulder and posed for the camera. Trion heedlessly blabbed on. Sixshot stole his moment of glory and stepped to Alphalfa's right. Three cameras blinded him with glaring lights. He grinned.

I eased several yards away before quietly transforming. Escaping for Central Command, I took as crazy a route as I could. Eleven blocks down, Magnus and Kup tailed at a safe distance until I landed at Central. They joined me in my office and several minutes later, stared hard with grim, disapproving faces.

I ordered all windows dim and the door locked. "Come on," I invited, "Go ahead and say it."

"You're a jerk," Magnus obliged.

Kup, a bit less blunt, crossed his arms. "You took off without a single word."

"To _anyone_," Magnus supplemented.

"I know." I settled in my chair which now felt awkward. Why was I sitting behind my desk?

"Well?" they sang at the same time.

I faced them, faced my fear and frustration. "I panicked." I answered simply.

They said nothing at first then Kup focused with confusion. "You panicked? Over what?"

"Where is Optimus?" Magnus said immediately after.

I leaned forward. "He's at the neighbor's playing with their dog. Look, I know it looks bad. I'm sorry. I panicked and had to get out."

"Over what?" Kup insisted.

"What neighbor?" Magnus added.

"I can't explain it to you. I -I just panicked."

"Rodimus!" Magnus' voice turned stern.

"What?"

"Where the hell is Optimus?"

"Will you get _off_ it, Magnus? He's safe!"

That set Kup off: "So you can't trust us enough to come clean with your whereabouts? You were found on Cybertron and now it looks like you're the one who might have ignited the reactor in Aipys."

Kup nattered. I slipped my optics off him and noticed a neglected stack of digipads stacked against my monitor. One of them blinked in quick, repetitive phrases. I picked it up as it flashed a timed assignment long overdue by two and a half days. I searched the assignee: Mirage. The assignment: Mars. I gave Magnus a puzzled expression and realized he and Kup still wanted an answer. I set the pad down. "Look, here's the low-down, okay? Mags, Op and I got into a fight. A bad one."

"Right." Kup acknowledged. "That's when Optimus' desk took flying lessons." He glared at Magnus.

I continued: "I felt guilty about it and went to apologize to Op."

Magnus looked put out. "You didn't apologize to me."

I ignored Magnus, "So I went hunting for Op and that's when it hit me. Some sort of-I dunno. Some kind of premonition. You know, the kind, Mags. The sort that's been known to flatten Op-er-used to long time ago? Well, anyway, I panicked. All I could think about was that I had to leave, had to escape Metroplex. So I packed Op up and we went on a vacation, we..." my voice trailed off as I read the report sketched onto the pad and three photographs taken; one of which was Cliffjumper.

Magnus lost his patience. "What, Rodimus?"

"Op sent Mirage on an assignment to Mars because he caught Mirage lying to him. And he gave Mirage a timed assignment, told to report back in twelve hours. And then Op and I went to Trapezius..." I stared at the City Commander. "Magnus, can you find out what Cliffjumper's assignments have been over the last three weeks?"

Magnus shrugged. "He's on leave at Iaacon visiting friends. He's not due back for three more weeks-sss."

I turned the pad around for my senior officers. Thereon pasted the picture of a dead and partially dismantled Cliffjumper, lying on a soil rich with iron-ore; Mars.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry. I screwed up. I know I did. So I came back to put a stop to whatever's going on."

Kup narrowed his optics. "You left Optimus on _Trapezius_? _With Decepticons?_"

I hesitated. "Something like that, yeah." Kup drilled me with a mean glare. "Look," I defended, "they're not gonna bite, okay?"

Magnus took his turn: "Rodimus, the Decepticons have been our enemies for millions of years-"

"Yes," I agreed, "under _Megatron_-who's not only no longer in control, but dead. Okay? We helped the Decepticons rebuild-_Cyclonus_ is in charge and if there's an enemy to be had, mechs and femmes, it's Alpha Trion." They turned from me in disbelief. Their reaction left me to face the solitude of my convictions. "Okay," I started over. "Let's take another approach: Mags, Op sent Mirage to Mars. Mirage has not reported back. I wanna know what happened-and keep this under lock and key." I handed the City Commander the one slice of evidence proving something was going on. I turned to the chief of security. "Kup, when was the last time you had your office cleaned top to bottom?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"Just humor me."

"Uh, last month."

"Good! Get Streetwise in there. Tell him he's looking for two things: Quintesson DNA and anything indicating such a Quintesson has been on Mars."

"Quintessons?" Kup echoed.

"On Mars?" Magnus finished.

"Here?" the security chief had a hard time wrapping his processor around the idea. "How would a Quintesson get past security?"

I stood and sifted through digipads until I found the right one. "By disguise, Kup. _Grandma_ is a Quint of many talents. Or was." I found the pad and looked from Mags to Kup. "That's your job to find out."

Ultra-Mr.-Detail-Magnus studied me. "And what will you be doing, Rodimus?"

"Me?" I picked an electric pointer. "I'm going to snoop around and look for Op's invisible barracks buried under the unauthorized council chamber. Good 'nuff?"

I headed outside, leaving them to puzzle over the moment on their own. I did not have time to hold their hands. As it was, I believed it too late to save anything.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Alpha Prime

I rolled through many quiet streets in my own city. Metroplex lay in sleep mode, most workers lay up in their homes and quarters for the next couple of hours. The depressing dark comforted me. But the assuagement offered no promises of victory. A gnawing sense of dread washed over me. I want to race far, far away. I wished I could set things on rewind, with do-overs so I could correct all the missteps and mistakes. Everything around me felt ugly and dirty, as though I walked in a morgue. My home wasn't as homey as Metroplex used to be. Metroplex was no longer my city. I am not the Autobot leader.

Taking the west front on-ramp to Parallel Road, I approached the unfinished CDA Central Hall. Safety lights warned pedestrians and workers of supplies and dangerous equipment. Signs alerted workers and looters about the security system. I idled at the front entrance and decided it was not the best way to sneak in.

Or was it?

If Uncle Trion worried about security, (and if I were him) then chances were he'd set traps at those areas that might be better choices for breaking in. I transformed just out of scanner/camera range. I could shoot them out but that would set off the silent alarm. The motion detectors were light-happy. Naturally, the micro-second the flood lights shot on, the camera system veered in that direction and the silent alarm would kick in.

Now, I am the Prime and I could get Metroplex to dismantle all the security precautions with my handy-dandy uber-authority super code. But then it'd alert Uncle Trion and his _pokies_ and they'd find a way to keep me from finding the truth. That is, if what Op said was the case.

I needed a decoy.

The next building over, South of the council chamber, sat the Roadways Control Complex for Traffic and Road Way Changes. When large ships or vehicles need better clearance to enter the city, Metroplex is designed to adapt and shift roads, bridges, spaces and walls. Such transformations can be conducted either manually or by the city himself.

The Roadways Complex Center certainly promised a decent diversion to the break-in I plan to commit.

Okay, My Plan: write really bad graffiti on the traffic control center so that at first glance it'll look like some hoodlum schmuck drank a little too much forty-weight.

Well ... 'write' isn't the correct word. I used a low-level laser to burn marks into the metal, since I don't make it a habit of carrying a can of paint for such occasions.

Next: break in.

I accomplished that feat blindfolded with one arm tied behind me (yeah, I'm exaggerating).

I'll have to make that a point to Magnus. I stood in the break room. A TV hung at one wall, chairs and an energon storage cubical lined the left side. Inspirational digital posters plastered other walls. One minute the posters displayed beautiful scenes ruined with dorky messages like "the ones who are defeated are the ones who quit trying." and another read: "A wishmaker dreams, but a worker plans goals."

I think one of them needs to say "your leader was here and he said to take the day off."

Technically, that's what will happen. I left the employee break room and entered the hallway leading from one office to another until I took the stairs and entered the room where it said "Authorized personnel only."

All the switches were well labeled, some for the day traffic, others for night and others for emergency transformation. There were switches for the bridges crossing Autobot River at the South side and others for upper-level roadways.

I played picky-choosy as to which switches to blow. I wanted to create a distraction, not cripple the city. I destroyed all the shipment docks leading from Cybertron. That would delay the final stages of the chamber's construction. I also disabled large-capacity roads to Central Command.

Alarms sounded as the boards blew, snapped and crisped under laser fire.

I slipped into the interior control room and risked getting my skin sizzled by frying circuit boards and capacitors. climbing the ladder to the antennae/relay room, I managed to the Complex's rooftop as city security and fire department arrived in fashionable time.

Okay, Mr. Smarty, I told myself, How were we supposed to slip away? I'd use drain pipes, except that there weren't any. However, the building did come with external support columns which dropped down and outward. That's good, except that emergency workers surrounded the building. I tapped across the rooftop to the least-visited side and waited for workers to give an all-clear.

Breaking into the council chamber building proved more of a challenge than I anticipated.

"Come on," I said quietly, "you're taking too much time." two Autobots, Wedge and Pedester, talked and laughed for ten minutes. I wanted to slide down and knock them out but I held my impatience. Irrationality complicates matters.

They finally separated when Wedge answered a call. It dawned on me that no one came to check the roof. Pfft. This assignment turned into a check on inner-city security. I intended writing those two up later on, then the chief in-charge for failure to check the entire building. Really, I should have been caught by now.

I slid down the support wing rolled along the ground and stayed down.

Minutes passed and no one spotted me. So I slunk away, keeping low and quiet. As I approached the administration building, I quietly shot out two motion detectors then the lights toward the front entrance.

I kept close to the shadows as news reporters stalked emergency workers. I peered round the bend and waited another twenty seconds until the opportunity came and all backs turned to me. I slipped into the outer alcove and faced the pair of fancy doors.

Damn. I needed an entry code.

Code, code, code. What would be a good code? I'd get three tries. Damn. Op would know. But he's not here. Think, think, think. ARCEE?

Way obvious.

CYBERTRON?

Even Trion wouldn't use that one.

My head raced through all past conversations and speeches. The term 'additional security' came to mind. I gave it a try and used Sixshit's name.

A buzzer made me wince. Nope. Try again.

Ugh. Think, think, think. Trion liked power, press and prestige. So on a whim, I punched in 'CONTROL'.

Neeeep.

Ouch. Strike two. I took another moment. If I got it wrong this time, I'd have to go home before someone checked to see if I were in bed. I stared at the access panel and pictured Trion punching in a password. What would he use? What password would he use on Earth, in Metroplex?

Op's words drifted to me from that day we spent at the med ward:_ "you and I can exist in more than one level of reality at a time. We are manifestations of something far more powerful but Trion is not a part of that existence. He knows of it. He craves it. But he can never have it simply because he was never chosen."_

I narrowed my optics. Last chance. I punched in ALPHA PRIME.

Bingo.

But it made my fuel lines run cold.

Recalling blue prints Op acquired from Steeljaw, I made my journey from the grand lobby to the downstairs offices and into a huge chamber hall. Crates and crates of seats squatted on the raked flooring waiting to be installed. Why so many chairs? There were only fifteen members on the CDA. Unless this room was supposed to serve as a private theater.

But I realized how the room was situated: two sides. At the forefront sat two tables, all before a podium with a polished copper judge's stand.

This was a courtroom; a chamber of mental and emotional horrors.

But this was not the area Op discovered. Using infrared, I scanned the room with zippo results. So I switched to thermal. Two entrance ways glowed deep purple, indicating colder air. One entrance no doubt would be judge's chamber. So the other might lead down.

I took Door Number Two; the door to my left.

Some door! It hadn't been properly installed and I caught it before it smacked the floor and made a racket.

Even if no one knew where I was, it's still a good idea to keep quiet. I placed the door the way I found it and crept along a lightless narrow passage.

I wanted this facility removed. Not because Metroplex was my town-_was_, but because I knew what this place represented: an oligarchy of people who lusted for control and privilege; people not chosen by a powerful talisman that guided and protected the Autobots for millions of years.

The narrow passage ended at a two-way section. An unfinished sign pointed right. Logic says right led behind the judge's chamber. That means left led to holding cells for criminals awaiting trial. I took the left. If I could not find a political means to abort the damn cancerous facility, then I'd eliminate it myself. A court system is not an evil thing. It's great if handled fairly, especially during those periods in history when there have been no Autobot leaders. But a Prime is a better system. We know everyone automatically. We know how they are-_really_ know who they are and what works best for them.

This probably unnerves Humans. But then we're not Human.

The passage I treaded led to three doors along the right side. After that, the trail dropped another level. This had to be it. The pass expanded into a chamber cut with a low ceiling. That passage bloomed into a huge cavern. My scanners _had_ to be lying to me. They said this cavernous space existed beneath the city. I produced an independent flashlight from subspace and my laser core stopped. Row upon row stood the council's private milita. Not yet activated, they stood with their optics off, their helms down in standby mode.

This was Trion's intention; his means to become 'Alpha Prime'. But why the delay?

I needed to send a message to Cyclonus. I absolutely did not want Op back home until Mags and I fixed things. But that was the 'X' in the equation.

I returned to the courtroom and scooped a final glace. The auditorium already contained an audio-video system. What they arranged here was not justice, but a system of fear.

Leaving the courtroom, I spotted a light filtering through the crack in the unfinished doorway. I hoped that was not a silent trip alarm.

Worse yet, I caught sight of a cyberdog. I could sit tight and wait to get discovered. Or I could retreat to the dungeon. I might also attempt to bluff my way through.

I liked the bluffing idea best.

Two cyberdogs charged me the second I stepped into the lobby. Someone dropped on my shoulders.

... the dogs snarled...

...I hit the wall...

... that was a laser sword down my left side ... they dragged me along the floor-I did not see my left arm ...

Voices. Screams. Confusion.

My name.

My name ... "... _I sense a mode of desperation within him ... it makes me afraid for you, Roddi."_

The sirens wailed and I thought about the passing of Earth's great whales, all poisoned because of greed. The sirens wailed and I thought how overwhelmingly sad it would be if the Autobots had no future.

_"You and I can exist in more than one level of reality at a time ..."_

They laid me under the light of an operating table and I wondered who really spoke when Op said that. He came to us dead. The laser core extinguished for eighty years. No spark.

It was wrong. But it was as if ... as though the Matrix was trying to say something.

But it was already too late; too late when I recovered from hax. Too late when I made an alliance with the Decepticons. Honestly, it was too late the day Op died in 2005 and I took over. Alpha Trion already made his moves. He played both sides of the chessboard by the time I came along.

Come to think on it, Op coming back from the dead wasn't horribly wrong. One person lived to see the rise and fall of every Autobot leader in history. The fact that the same person is still living has got to be wrong. And it's horribly wrong that Trion manipulated and orchestrated the war. Not for fame or fortune, but for the kind of power he'd never possess.

My consciousness surfaced. My optics activated and registered myself lying in medbay.

I hate medbay. I tried to sit up and found myself not only strapped, but _bolted_ to the berth. "What the hell?" I asked out loud.

Trion's voice sounded oily in my audios: "oh, nice to have you returned to us, Rodimus. Did you sleep well? Did you dream deep? Maybe it would have been better had you never woken again."

My right hand stretched and wiggled. I didn't like being tied down. don't look at him. His Trionness gloated like a Decepticon who killed his first one hundredth victim. Don't look.

"Rodimus, I am so _sorely_ disappointed with you. All you had to do was play the game by my rules and things-_your life_-would have gone just fine. You were so compliant at first. And now you insist on doing it the hard way. Oh, and sneaking around the city at night is quite juvenile."

"Hah. Is that so?"

His face found its way into mine and I balked, now finding I did not like how he looked. I don't know why it does not occur to me more often, but Trion really should look much older than he does. He glowered. "I am trying to help you. They're coming to arrest you, Rodimus."

I half-laughed. "Why? Because I went AWOL for a couple days? Because I broke into a building in my own city-one I did NOT authorize to begin with?"

"Because of your alliance with the Quintessons."

I did not hear that right: "What?"

"You heard me." Trion snarled.

"Yeah, but I didn't hear you _correctly_."

He stood straight, his face displayed a type of contempt I'd not seen before. "Oh, you want me to spell it word-for-word, do you? _Quintessons, _Rodimus. Poor Kup has been beside himself with fear, worry and guilt. he keeps asking where he strayed you wrong. Am I hitting you yet?"

I could not answer him. Alphie paced like a Human lawyer, preparing for the killer point.

"Rodimus, when you signed the agreement for mining production on Mars, why didn't you just hire an allied company? I mean, the Oberons were willing to set up a facility there. What possessed you to sign an agreement with Iridic Enterprises-"

"I DID NOT!"

"And now Humans are involved and tragically, Rodimus, seventy-three of them have died."

Okay, that stopped me. "What?"

Trion mimicked my expression then stepped to the foot of my bed. "Eh? What's that?' he says. Oh yeah. Now we have our Mighty Leader's attention. The contracts you signed-"

"I DIDN'T SIGN THEM!" I struggled against my restraints.

"-and the companies you made deals with-and by the way, Rodimus, _nice_ work you did for the people in Aipys. You managed to get four thousand killed."

"Liar!" I hissed.

"You were on Cybertron. And not one person-NOT ONE PERSON can account for your whereabouts the entire time you were there. AND you brutally assaulted Dynamix-and where is Optimus? Hmm?" I could not stare at him let alone answer. Trion sighed his customary annoying sigh.

"Who attacked you, Rodimus?" I shook my head, unable to clear my thoughts. "You don't know?" Trion dragged a chair to the berth's corner and sat in it like an attorney. "You don't know who attacked you?"

I tried to visualize the event through hazy memory. "It was dark. There were two cyberdogs." I shook my head, puzzled.

"Well, as it turns out, they were found by Sixshot and arrested. A band of Lithone thugs seems to have infiltrated Kup's and Magnus' security protocols and compromised Metroplex. Rumor has it now they've even allowed Quintessons to enter the city-QUINTESSONS, Rodimus; on our property; in our midst. And you shirk your responsibility by disappearing X-number of times a month. Doing whatever you damn well feel like doing."

"Don't go there, Trion," I warned.

"Not to worry. I'll not bother," he replied swiftly. "I won't need to." He paused. The anger in his voice strengthened and all I wanted was to get the bolts and straps off me. Vainly I struggled and he scoffed. "It's for your own good, Rodimus. You can't seem to sit and listen, so I asked them to strap you down. Strap you down like a baby in a car seat, Rodimus-and _I'M_ driving. I told you that having Sixshot here was a necessary measure but you just brush off the facts off-why? Inconvenience? Or are you honestly arrogant enough to think you and Magnus don't need anyone else?"

"We've done fine for seventy years without Sixshot. Sounds a bit suspicious that suddenly Magnus and I are now incompetent."

"Times change, Rodimus."

"Is that what it is? Or were those thugs that attacked me _hired_ to do so to give you an excuse to attain control?"

Contempt returned to his face. "Who the pitt do you think you are?"

I struggled again. "What?" I challenged. "Annoyed that I point out the not-so-obvious? That I can think and act without your divine guidance? Come on, Trion, give me _some_ credit!"

"I'll give you all the credit you wish, _young_ Autobot. I deserve _some_ respect. Why are you so hostile toward me? I am trying to protect you from potential destruction-even if it means protecting you from your own immaturity."

I groaned.

"Look, Rodimus, I truly am sorry for your personal predicament. I honestly am. I love you and it pains me to see you wrecked by your own devices. But you are careless. You do and say things without thought or consequence-like trespassing in the Administration building. If you wanted a tour, all you had to do was ask."

"Not really."

He heaved that sigh again. "Alright. I see this is going nowhere. But, I know, too, Roddi, some of this _some_ of it isn't your fault. Not entirely."

That cold feeling ran through my lines again. He paused a moment-another bad sign. "I know, Roddi, that Magnus has been preoccupied and it leaves you with more to do. And-and I'll have a talk with him about it. Because I know it's not fair to you." He smiled.

I'm sure it was meant to be a friendly, loving smile, but it made me think of Sharkticons.

"I wish you'd confide in me, Roddi." Trion's faced turned plaintive. "I have so much to offer you! Don't you think I love you enough to be willing to give you advise and suggestions when you need them?"

I refused to dignify that with an answer. There was nothing on this planet -or on Cybertron- that'd get me to trust him with my needs. Never trust an emotional manipulator. I trusted Optimus. I trusted Magnus and Kup because they knew their jobs and had great insight. But Op _understood._

Trion scowled. "I think I know what's going through your head. You're thinking about Optimus again, aren't you?" Resenting his invasive accusations, I shot Trion an acid glare. He passed off my annoyance as nothing. "You know," he continued, "I have repeatedly warned you about him, Rodimus. Ha, he's the reason you've felt so... over confident, isn't he? He's _dangerous_, Rodimus! Optimus is a mindless automaton that merely responds. It is a body with no initiative, no thought of its own and it's honestly _sad_ that you are so blinded by hero worship you refuse to bury him; to just let him die."

Angry and helpless, I chose not to further the conversation with an answer. I sent my gaze elsewhere.

Trion stared with expectancy. "I know it hurts, Rodimus. I know truth can be painful. But you must face reality. Optimus cannot and never will have the capacity to resume the status of Autobot leader. It's risky for the Autobots. There's too much unpredictability involved. So, maybe you and I can -at some point- put our heads together to solve this challenge, shall we?"

I was done talking.

"Rodimus, did you hear me?"

I fixed my optics at a single panel. Optics forward, mouth shut, mind elsewhere.

"Rodimus?"

Anywhere but here would be peachy-perfect.

"Oh. I see. That's great. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Is that your game?

I looked to him at the mention of 'game'. It was a four-letter word to Optimus though I could never get him to tell me why.

Trion surrendered. "Very well. I suppose we're done today. Get lots of rest, Rodimus Prime. You will certainly need it."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Spurned and Burned

Arcee draped her slender, delicate frame across Ultra Magnus' desk while the city commander watched news and scrutinized one digipad after another. He compared seven specific pads against one another like a scientist comparing mold specimens.

Bored with her lover's devotion to duty, Arcee picked up one of the pads and tried to tease him out of it. But all he did was move her whole form to get the pad. Magnus did not even respond to her light giggle.

The commercial break ended and anchorman Earl Janowitz started with a greeting. Magnus listened in as he checked Mirage's schedule.

_ CBS learned early this morning of a video smuggled off Mars and brought back to Earth via a supplies run to the mines on the red planet. The video, which comes from an unknown source, depicts the voice of Amerello Martinez, a native Cambodian who is said to have volunteered to work on Mars three months ago._

_ We warn you, however, the sounds you are about to hear are a little disturbing."_

A short video, partly scrambled with lines and static glowed on Magnus' screen. Some poor Human soul whispered while screams echoed from the background. _"Can you hear that?"_ The voice, clearly accented in Spanish, choked with tears. _"Yeah. They say it's a madness caused by poisoned gas. They-they always scream first. They always scream and then the skeleton is all that's left. They say gasses killed all those people. It's not the truth. We're mining rock. We're being murdered."_

A clicking-shuffling followed the rasping whisper. A few more screams followed before the transmission failed.

Janowitz's face came back to view. His expression attempted a neutral-grave as though the reporter himself were affected by the disturbing voice and sound.

_ "Unfortunately, we are currently unable to verify the authenticity of the recording ..."_

Arcee sighed impatiently and stretched like a cat roused from a nap. "Magnus," she pouted, "Is it possible for you to take an itty bitty break?"

"Hm? Hm?"

He did not move from the tablets Arcee lolled her head side to side. She heard Roddi's name mentioned and returned her attention to the televisor:

_ "Contracts for the mining facility authorized by Autobot leader Rodimus Prime, do not stipulate compliance with the press. In other words, Iridic Enterprises is free to not answer to any law enforcement either from Earth or Cybertron."_

Janowitz voiced over the video of an autobot femme.

_"We contacted the Cybertron Council and Council member Solara offered her input: "We were completely unaware of the loopholes left in the negotiation process between Rodimus Prime and Iridic Enterprises."_

Janowtiz's face appeared momentarily, _"Counselor Solara, would you consider those Humans and Autobots on Mars as prisoners of the mining company?"_

_ "Prisoner' seems a bit much of a word, Mister Janowitz. For all we know, the recording could be a prank."_ Solara regarded the Human reporter with no more interest than if he were a crack in a wall.

_"That's a fairly serious prank, Counselor, Especially since communications-as promised by the CDA and Alpha Trion in particular-have yet to be established. According to our data, another twenty-three thousand people from Nigeria and the Ukraine have already left for Cybertron where they will be briefed and trained. Is there anyway to bring them back home?"_

_ That's a very good question, Mr. Janowitz. And I wish I had an answer for you. But all that is completely out of Council hands. We're tied by the contract_."

The reporter turned the news back to the station anchor. _"Thank you, Earl. Is there any news from Metroplex?"_

_ "Girty, the unfortunate thing is, that Rodimus Prime himself was brutally attacked by a group of unknown parties and cannot answer any calls at this time."_

The lady anchor nodded sadly._ "Very troubling times. All right. Thanks, Earl."_

Arcee rolled over and moaned. "Oh, please. They act like Rodimus is just going to die or something. Pffp. Must be wishful thinking."

Magnus shut the news off and rose from his desk, now facing the window overlooking his town.

Was it even his town now?

Arcee sat up and proffered herself in a provocative pose. Her devilish smile reflected off the window. "What's on your mind, my dear?"

Magnus hesitated. Telling her anything meant Trion would eventually know about it too. Come to think on it, that's how it's been from day one. Trion knew everything whether Magnus wanted him to or not. "I have really slagged things up."

"Awe. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You didn't cause the problems on Mars."

"It's not that, Arcee."

She slid off the desk and sidled up to him. "You are the best at what you do," she cooed. "And you're my hunky hero." she tried to pry asunder his folded arms but the city commander remained unmoved. Arcee knew better than to push him. "So ... tell me, my sweet, what's bothering you?"

Magnus shook his head. Not that Arcee had a right to know. She baited him. Magnus severely berated himself for failure to notice before. She used him. The game was over, he decided. Optimus was missing. Kup had not contacted him in several hours. Rodimus' attackers were not found.

And now the city commander stood in his office, unmasking Arcee's true nature. It was time. "I was wrong. I should never have fought with Rodimus. I should have supported him." he looked at her with borderline annoyance. "Instead of pursuing my own interests."

"heh," Arcee turned and leaned against the window. She tired to sweet-face the city commander into forgetting business and tend to her. But Magnus' somber, self-recriminating mood would not bend. "I'd not worry about Rodimus, my dove. Whatever mess he's gotten into, he'll find a way out. He always does."

"Mm." Magnus stared across the city before reversing his visuals upon Arcee's faint reflection on the window. "Did you love him, Arcee?"

It took her a moment to realize what he asked. Her mouth dropped. "Ultra Magnus-"

"Just answer the question." he said sternly, "Did or do you love him?"

"No!" Arcee stepped away, disgusted. "Rodimus Prime is all about duty and responsibility. It leaves no room for-why are you _looking_ at me like that? I'm telling you the truth!"

"It's a half-truth." Magnus sadly corrected. "Don't think for a second I'm ignorant of your flirtations with other Autobots_ especially_ Prime."

Guilt colored her bland and the femme shrugged. "Yeah. Okay. So sue me for being _attracted_ to him. But that's not the same thing-"

"Ohh!" Magnus frowned, facetious. "It's alright to go behind my back and make advances to another mech, but Primus forbid that you love me enough to think how I might feel about it."

Arcee scoffed. "I never had you pinned as the jealous sort."

"I was considering asking your hand, Arcee. But then I realized everything about you is a ploy. You're not here because you _love_ me but to keep me distracted. Did you ever try to flirt with Optimus?"

"WHAT?! WHY would I be interested-even remotely with someone who's no more alive than a rock?"

Magnus turned partly away. His frown deepened. "I wouldn't put it past you, Arcee."

"MAGNUS!"

"I've seen you with Sunstreaker. Blades, Pretensor. _Twin Twist_." he held her gaze, his optics declared her guilty but the femme lifted her chin, defiant of his charges. "So," Magnus continued, "How am I supposed to believe you when you cuddle up and declare your love? _Why_ should I NOT believe you're just your father's pawn used to reward good behavior in others and distract me-and worse-cause a rift between me and Rodimus Prime?"

Her countenance shifted to wordless disbelief. "After all those sweet nights, just you and I and all the times we've shared you doubt my love for you?"

"I doubt your love because of your lack of devotion and honesty, Arcee. As it stands, I am not asking your hand and I will not be seeing you again until I get this business with Rodimus and Mars cleared up. So if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend."

Magnus turned his back to her and sorted through digipads he picked up from Optimus' unoccupied office. He felt her stare and resisted the temptation to check. Without another word, he left her alone and departed for Roddi's office.

Arcee watched him go, baffled and confused. Her optics fell upon his vacant chair and took it as an indication of her future. The femme abandoned his office, though she did not know where to go. Coldness swept through her as she waited for the elevator. She spent so much time with Magnus during the last three years she lost contact with her friends.

She did love Rodimus.

She loved Magnus.

What was to become of her now?

The elevator opened and Arcee met her father.

He did not smile. "Where have you been?"

"W-with Magnus."

"Is he in his office?"

"No."

"Why aren't you with him now?"

"He-he b-he broke up with me."

Trion stared hard at her. "Primus, Arcee, can't I entrust anything to you?"

She felt small and very used. "I did everything you asked! I just can't believe he broke up with me."

"Did he say why?" The look of contempt on her father's face made Arcee feel worse.

"He said he didn't trust me-"

"Oh, that's great, Arcee. Nice job. You were supposed to keep him distracted."

"I've done everything you asked. Why are you treating me like this? I loved Magnus and he doesn't want to have anything-"

"Get an upgrade, Arcee. When people say they love you it means you have something they want. And if what you say is true, then you might as well head back to Cybertron. I'll find someone else to do the job."

She caught Trion as he stepped away. "Wait a minute! I'm your _daughter_, not some tool! You asked me to entertain your friends and-and you _used_ me as some sort of prize for your pet troublemakers and ... and you want to replace me?"

He yanked his arm with disdain. She slapped him and when he did not flinch, she slapped him again then departed. Arcee never spoke to him again.

Magnus couldn't leave fast enough. To be honest, it hurt to cut her off. But Magnus knew any ties to Trion jeopardized everything he hoped to accomplish. First, Magnus had to warn Rodimus. Next, Magnus hoped to find a way to communicate with Cyclonus without rousing suspicion. In the meantime, Magnus waited for Springer's return trip from Mars. Unfortunately, that won't be for another six hours.

Magnus sneaked and squeezed his way along a number of back doors through the city. He arrived at Medbay through a doorless wall. Undiscovered, he slipped into an unused elevator. Never had the city commander imagined using secret passages and emergency exits to hide from his own peers but he was glad such things and places existed in Metroplex. Magnus patched into the elevator's hidden compartment and downloaded patient files.

There. Rodimus: room 112, under strict security and house arrest. The information did not include what charges. Magnus had no power to bail Roddi out of that jam. But Rodimus would tell him not to worry; he'd get out on his own.

Magnus emerged from the back section of the EDC cafeteria. He maneuvered between pantries, dangling cooking articles and the refrigeration unit. Amazing, even to him, the city commander did not make much noise. He emerged into the cafeteria and froze upon the sound of an odd cackle.

_"My son, Robert, he was the easy child. I had only two days of labor with him. But you know, he loved to sit right on my bladder! The little devil that he was."_

"My goodness." Martha moaned.

Magnus moaned inwardly and pressed across the room. The eyes of two older women shot him with suspicion. One lady blushed at the cheeks and turned toward a painting. Magnus offered the one lady still staring a cheesy grin and continued out.

As he bulldozed toward Roddi's room amid nurses and workers, the commander realized security detail entailed delicate handling. As long as Magnus did not have to spar with Sixshot, things would go smoothly.

To Magnus' relief, there was security: Twin Twist.

The Jumpstarter hopped off his perch at the nearby comm counter. "Sorry, commander. Alpha-T says no visitors."

Magnus kept his voice even, "I'm not a visitor, Twin Twist. I'm here on business."

"Don't matter." Twist snubbed, "Alpha-T was very strict-g'k!'

Magnus gripped the annoying hot-tempered Autobot. "I know you spy for hm, Twist. But let me make this a bit _clearer_. Shut your trap, step aside or you'll end up with re-arranged thrusters." He dumped the traitorous punk into a nearby chair and tried the door.

Locked. Coded.

"What's that?" Twist egged. He produced a glowing key. "Golly, Mr. City Commander, Sir. You don't' seem to have permission or access."

Magnus stared at the gloatatious Jumpstarter. He approached Twin Twist one menacing step at a time. His shadow blocked the upper hallway lighting from Twin Twist's visage and now, the Jumpstarter no longer smiled.

Magnus did not bother grabbing the key.

Magnus did not bother with asking permission.

Two bed covers + two curtains + a handy pair of energy cuffs + one annoying Autobot = a new package for the laundry chute.

Except that Twin Twist's bonded, bounded, blinded bundle did not fall all the way down the chute. Two stories down, the oversize Autobot ball caught in the smaller throat and he hung there, suspended.

Lesson learned? Magnus asked himself. Not likely. After all, if hanging out to dry by Optimus Prime taught the Jumpstarter nothing, then certainly nothing Magnus did left an impression on him, either.

I managed a little sleep. But weird dreams kept me from any real rest. Commotion outside my room woke me in the early evening. I figured Twin twist harassed a hospital worker. He certainly enjoyed waking me often enough and when I get out of this little predicament, I plan to find Twin Twist the worst assignment in the furthest part of the known territories.

And he will be there permanently.

The door reluctantly opened and of all faces, it had to be Magnus'. A sloppy grin lifted my mood. He balked at my physical condition. "Don't give me that stare, Magnus. You've seen me look worse."

He approached with a sigh and drew his gun. "Seems Alpha Trion finally put you where he's wanted you all along, Rodimus."

"Wait," I called. "Wait. No, Mags. This-as much as I hate it, this is necessary."

"For what?"

"To buy us _time._"

Confused/annoyed, Magnus glowered. "What is it with you and Optimus that you feel it necessary to use yourselves as a bargaining chip?"

"It's in my _job description_, Ultra Magnus. Look,

you need to get a communique to Cyclonus. Frequency-"

"Rodimus, this is ridiculous! I am not-"

"Are you _listening_ to me?! For once, just pretend that I'm in charge, okay? I found Op's little bunker, Magnus. The CDA has their militia here. They're here and if we're to survive, you _must_ get help and Cyclonus is the only option we have."

Magnus stared, unable to decide. "You want us to form a forbidden alliance with the Decepticons?"

"Do you have a better idea?" I asked in return.

Magnus bowed his head, defeated. "I suppose not. I've lost contact with Kup and Springer. My office is bugged. Arce ..."

"Magnus. Mags! The frequency is subspace point two seventeen. My _personal_ code is Gazelle 1776. Okay?"

Magnus chilled. "Rodimus, why are you giving me-"

I yanked against the bonds. I'd rather be chased down and tortured than to be bound like a dog. I succumbed to the chains and growled, frustrated. "Don't let me down, Magnus. Don't leave Metroplex in the hands of those blood sucking piranha. Just, just go. Just go while we still have a marginal chance."

The familiar clong of Trion's brute squad boomed in both our audio sensors. I nodded toward the wall. "Best do that disappearing act, Mags."

"I don't like the idea of leaving you alone." he objected.

"Oh yeah?" I bit. "Who will mind the store if we're both locked up? GO! And call Cyclonus! Don't do a damn thing else until you've done that. Now GO!"

I watched Ultra Magnus utilize a special panel to access the city's shifting mechanisms. The wall folded twice and slid into the floor. He slipped through the pocket and disappeared into darkness. The wall closed just as Notch stomped in.

"What happened to Twin Twist?"

"Beats me," I shrugged. "I've just been hanging here." He fixed suspicious optics at me, knowing I was lying. "What?" I bit.

He glared and opened a comm channel. "Swiss, we have a little problem."

Magnus arrived at ground level disembarking from the same snug elevator. He stepped into an under-level parking lot and produced a subspace-connector data tablet. Magnus punched in Roddi's code and scrambled it so the transmission jumped to a different, random pad so as not to be traced. From the random location, the message left Earth through unused Autobot subspace frequencies-a frequency, Magnus hoped, would land in Decepticon communications.

A clamourous thunking stomp caused the city commander to freeze-he knew that annoying arrogant gait, though he'd heard it only nine other times.

"I was told to come look for you, Ultra Slaggus. Mind explaining yourself, or do I get to bitch-slap it out of you?"

Magnus faced Sixshot. "What do you know? Looks to me like Trion let you out to pee earlier than usual. I just wish you'd not do it in my yard."

"Are you threatening me? I don't like threats. Better see to it you can back it up, Mr. City Commander."

"You're not worth the effort, Sixshot. Not when Trion still holds your leash. Did he feed you a Milkbone when you stood up and begged, or did he feed you a Gains Burger?" Sixshot took one step forward and Magnus lost his straight face. "Hah! I'm-I'm sorry, Six. I was just thinking of a few names Rodimus rattled off about. Speaking of whom, he might fit you into his schedule some time next week. The two of you can play Connect Four or something equally as safe and simple."

Magnus wondered how far he'd have to take it before Sixshot lost his cool. The Decepticon transformed to wolf mode and leapt. Magnus anticipated the move and drop-rolled under the brute.

Sixshot landed gracefully and scampered around for a second attempt.

Magnus, already in automode, headed out the parking lot into early daylight. He took a sharp corner and just slipped between two other Autobots racing the opposite way.

Sixshot lost no footing. He pounded the flooring then leapt onto two moving Autobots in car mode and launched off them. Even with his mighty jump, Sixshot still missed Magnus by a hair's width.

Magnus accelerated and took an on-ramp, heading north. Metroplex was _his_ town and if Six_shit_ wanted to play rough, Magnus felt it his prerogative to teach him how to do so _properly_.

The city commander barreled through four cross streets, barely passing under yellow lights. His opponent clawed the ground five miles shy of Magnus' speed. But Sixshot was not deterred. By the second street light, the Decepticon via doggie mode abandoned the road for walkways and avoided pedestrians by leaping along walls, flying over their heads or deftly darting around them.

The fifth stop light fronted an overpass leading to one of Metroplex's main power storage facilities. Magnus poured on the speed, transformed and used the acceleration of speed to carry him to the bridge. He grasped a light pole, swung around and just as Sixshot caught up, Magnus dropped his entire weight on the Decepticon's head.

Sixshot's frame caved under Magnus but only long enough for the 'Con to shift to car mode. Sixshot burned for the overpass and knocked Magnus off. But the Autobot wasn't going to be bested by an amateur warrior. The city commander slipped off, but held tightly to the Decepticon's backside bumper. Magnus ignored the scrapes and cuts the road delivered as Sixshot dipped into the city's second level.

"Got you by the gonads, Ultra Jackass. Good thing they're small; make them easier to crush!"

Sixshot sank into a tunnel leading to the city's water mains. Magnus counted the number of break lines in the road, waiting for the next manhole to appear.

Ten seconds. He dared not miss it; the next one did not come for another two point eight four nine miles. There! Magnus lifted his foretoe and cracked the lid (and his foot) just as he encountered it.

It really wasn't a brilliant idea. Sixshot's racing form yanked him and Magnus heard and felt every component in his body crack and strain under the tugging force.

It was rough enough for Magnus but Sixshot yelped when a chunk of him broke off. He slipped into robot form and rolled several yards before smacking into the tunnel hallway. Three cars swerved between he and Magnus and one car came painfully close to impacting the other two.

Magnus internally ordered Metroplex to divert all roads for the next five miles. He stomped toward Sixshot as the tall Decepticon popped kinks out of his joints and shook off fragments. "Not bad," Sixshot taunted. "Now, it's _my_ turn."

He flew up, transformed to wolf mode, clawed along the ceiling and just as he aimed for Magnus, the Decepticon shifted to jet and tried to ram into Magnus' face. But Magnus pre-retaliated with a power punch. He clocked Sixshot who smashed into the nearby wall.

Unfazed, Sixshot switched to tank mode and fired. He missed Magnus by one seventh of an inch.

The aftershock kicked Magnus off his feet.

Sixshot fired.

Magnus ducked. But the bolt zapped the light array and cast them into darkness.

Sixshot fired.

The bolt flashed and disrupted Magnus' visual receptors. Magnus transformed and bore down Sixshot's direction at top speed. He flipped his shoulder rockets backward and fired them to give him extra acceleration.

Sixshot fired again and blew out Magnus' left tire, but Magnus had enough momentum that even as he skid along solid metal, he shifted back to robot mode and kicked Sixshot up. The tank mode rocked up and tipped. Magnus crunched his right shoulder into Six's underside then fired his left shoulder rocket when the Decepticon landed upside down.

Sixshot transformed to robot and started to shift to car mode when Magnus kicked him yet again. The 'Con landed in a hard skid, igniting a shower of dizzying sparks. He rebounded in wolf form and catapulted off the tunnel wall. Magnus tried to shield with his left arm in order to call his weapon from subspace.

The weapon did little good. The six-changer rammed head and shoulders into Magnus' lesser-protected mid section just under the grid plates.

Magnus bucked backward. He struggled to roll before Sixshot attempted to bite his face off. Magnus caught the wolf jaws with both hands and held the Decepticon's head at bay but it left him defenseless against the claws.

Sixshot dug deeply into Magnus' thighs and shredded his chest, piecing past the chest plating. Magnus managed to get his right knee up and pushed hard enough for a shoulder roll. He landed on top of Sixshot and immediately slipped his hands from the canine's maw to its neck and squeezed.

Sixshot growled and transformed to robot form. From there, he shifted to jet. "No free rides, Ultra Fragnus!" the Decepticon blew through the tunnel to an outside world crowded with figures standing at safe distances.

Magnus wanted to end the fight correctly: with one of them dead. He produced an electro-knife and stabbed Sixshot's starboard wing.

Sixshot roared and flipped upside down. But exterminating the city commander was not that simple. The Decepticon dropped onto a nearby freeway, still flying belly-up. "I've always liked a good head-on collision-especially if it's someone else's head-like your's, Ultra Gagnus!"

"Not going to happen." Magnus snarled. "I'm going to end this if I have to take you apart a piece at a time!"

They flew into traffic. The first would-be casualty: a Snap-On truck. Sixshot bragged, but Magnus paid no mind. He sank the electro knife deeper into the 'Con's wing and at the last second, the city commander forced all his weight and might hard to port so that it forced Sixshot's flight path, missing the white truck by a safe sixteen inches.

Sixshot growled and had to use his landing thrusters to avoid collision with an off-ramp.

Magnus shoved the knife into Sixshot's hydraulics. Sixshot screamed and swung up. He spiraled twice, rising further and further into the atmosphere.

The air frosted Magnus' hide but undeterred, he dug deeper into the wing until he sliced completely down. Sixshot bled freely, his wing rattled. The Decepticon yielded to the pain and dropped altitude, falling freely toward the fields outside Metroplex.

Magnus yanked the knife up, intending to slice the wing clear off. Even if the Decepticon crashed and Magnus did not survive, at least the city commander died with the satisfaction that he'd take more than a fair chunk out of his enemy.

The wing fell apart and Sixshot lost control and smashed into soft, dark earth. The two robots left a long deep trench in the ground, some of which smouldered.

Magnus released his opponent. Sixshot transformed and tackled. Magnus rolled with it until he gained footing. He forced the taller 'Con off then rolled when Sixshot drew his weapon and fired.

By the third shot, Magnus regained his footing and returned the tackle. Six caught him, however, spun once and kneed Magnus in the middle before delivering an upper cut. Magnus dropped with it then kicked Sixshot off his balance.

The Decepticon rolled backward as Magnus hauled out his gun. He shot off one finger, then another.

"GGG-AAAGGH! WHAT THE FRAGGING SLAG ARE YOU DOING?!" Sixshot shook his hands now bleeding.

Magnus answered with another shot to the shoulder and repeated the process until the Decepticon turned wolf and jumped. Magnus kept grip on his weapon and shot off Sixshot's tail.

Sixshot turned to car mode.

Dodging left, right and a leap over the top, Magnus blew out one tire, then another. He shot out a door and the third tire.

Sixshot shifted to tank.

Magnus used missiles and blew him off his tracks.

Sixshot shifted back to jet to utilize his own rocket launchers. Magnus shot off the other wing.

Six shot to robot mode.

They wrestled. Magnus tore off a hand, an audio receptor, a finger.

Six shot to wolf.

Magnus removed both wings and an ear.

Three hours.

Noon.

Two P.M.

Magnus walked away, leaving the ground littered with Decepticon body parts. And the city commander made sure 'Humpty Dumpty' could never be put back together again.

Not neat nor clean, but effective.

Due to damage of his own, Magnus walked fifteen miles back to Metroplex. Waiting at the main south side entrance stood Alpha Trion, his personal body guards and Dispatch, head of security from Equinox City, Cybertron.

"Ultra Magnus," Equinox declared. "You are hereby under arrest for the murder of Sixshot, appointed security officer to Metroplex. Comply quietly or we will destroy you where you stand."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

THE PIRANHA POOL

I floated in darkness, accursed and isolated. Trion's voice taunted me; a dogging tormentor bent on my submission.

_ "I've always looked after you, Rodimus. But you continue to repay me with disrespect, arrogance and insubordination. What I have to do will hurt me moreso than you will believe. There simply is no recourse."_

How many decades, centuries or megania did it take Trion to pave the way for Alpha Prime? How many people did he deceive? What worlds paid the price for his historical manipulation? What cities did he level? How many lives did he ruin?

They shut off my chronometer so that days and hours ran into one another. I heard of Magnus' arrest. I was at fault. I endangered everyone, even Kup whom I heard recently transferred to Cybertron. I could not recall when Trion and his gaggle of co-conspirators transferred me from Medbay to some place unfamiliar. At least they kept me in Metroplex. I made several attempts to contact the city via internal comline. But he never answered.

_"Wake up, Rodimus. I know you're conscious."_ Trion repeatedly commanded, demanded, shouted and whispered.

Nope. I'm troublemaker Number One. I possessed the perverse power of pigheadedness and the audacity to provoke even steadfast nuns to unholy rage. Play dead, I ordered myself. They can't get answers from a dead mechanism.

They 'tempted' me to life with a high-dose shock treatment. Unfortunately for them, I'm one of those weirdos who can take a lot of pain. So I just hung there, played dead. My tormentor fussed and spewed words that would make Magnus proud.

"_He's (flipping) not responding!"_

_ "Patience, Swingline. Our endearing Autobot leader will come around."_

'Uncle Trion' paced before me. I worried for Optimus and hoped he kept his word. I did not want them to get him. I know they'd be brutal.

_"I'll tell you what, Swingline, let's bring a televisor in here. Our illustrious Prime can wake to the news. He can finally watch one of my interviews without distraction."_

Yay. Something I always wanted: death by _really_ bad TV. I sensed Swingline watched me, waiting for me to lift my head and declare I was pretending. They flipped the TV on. Some soup commercial played out followed by something else selling soda.

A news program started. At least I did not have to suffer through a game show-or worse yet, another episode of Trion's fave program: Histories and Mysteries. News: Magnus had been arrested for the death of -ugh, crap. _Autobot security officer_ Sixshot. Pffp. That kicks my caboose. But, haha! They'd be picking up Transformer body parts for the next three weeks. Geeze, Magnus, what by Primus, did you do to the guy?

News: Four hundred Humans died on Mars in what seems to be the worst accident in the industrial world. Unsecured and shoddy support systems leaked dangerous gasses in a mining chamber killed all the workers in that one vault. But what gasses? They never said. _'Faulty contract negotiations left gaping loopholes regarding the safety and well-being of those who worked under contract. President Shatner has requested immediate contract release and return for other workers still on Mars and those who have left for the Cybertronian training camps._

_ "We are grievously sorry to all the families who have lost so many loved ones. We are doing all we can to open a communication line between Washington and Cybertron. But we are not receiving any answers."_

_ President Shatner says she will fly out to Oregon to speak with Autobot leaders Alpha Trion and Rodimus Prime to negotiate the workers' release. Stay tuned. Our health correspondent Richard Mains has some tips in dealing with those pesky wrinkles and later ... the trucking industry: why 'going Autobot' is becoming a more preferred option."_

I hung there an additional twenty minutes until the local news came on and Girty Rhodes declared 'new developments at Metroplex:

_"The Cybertronian Defense Council has declared martial law. Ultra Magnus is arrested for allegedly slaying one of his own security personnel. And where is Rodimus Prime? All that and the weather in a moment._

I risked it. I lifted my aching weary head. I still had no idea where they held me. If Magnus had been arrested, I wondered if he got the signal out; if he managed to call for help.

Even if he did, it was too late. If Trion and his bottom-feeder cronies declared marital law, chances were that the militia already controlled the town.

Just as Trion boastfully promised, another of his interviews came on. I wished I could shove his irritating pious face into the Monsterbot sludge hole.

_"In too many ways, business and politics are very much alike. There has to be a balance between leadership and something like parenthood. Sometimes it's good policy to help everyone along and other times it's dreadfully necessary to lower the boom and utilize the tough love of justice. So here I stand, prepared to deliver some of the worst news I've ever had to declare in the many millions of years. (_Pause_) After hours of intense and deep investigation, we have managed to uncover some of those documents that entail Rodimus Prime's ties to Iridic Enterprises. We are, at this moment, attempting communication with the Quintessons."_

This was cruel and unusual punishment. Watching Trion tote his self-righteous, Holy Grandpa image to the public always made my fluids back up.

Swingline greeted me with a smugness outdone only by the late Starscream. "Enjoying the show? I've been told to record it and play it back about ten times or until he comes back."

"Joy," I replied. "Don't I get a bag of buttered popcorn and a soda?"

"Ha, ha, Rodimus. You won't be joking by the time they're done with you. They've decided to rush construction on the courtroom and lobby on your behalf."

"Goody. In that case, enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Swingline."

They fed me just enough energon to stay awake. Swingline and Twin Twist took turns babysitting while they gave me the opportunity to watch each of Trion's speeches since time immemorial. By the fourth time through, I lost my patience and my sense of humor. I refused the energon and shut down nonessential systems to conserve what I had. If they were going to play mind games, then I'd take on the prerogative not to cooperate. In spite of their efforts, I managed to shift into shutdown.

The problem with shutdown, however, were the nightmares waiting at the edge of sleep. This one hit me between the optics; a figure made of blue flame turned to me with white-hot optics.

_"This way, Rodimus."_ It spoke with a strangely familiar voice.

I watched Metroplex melt.

_"This way, Rodimus."_

Cybertron blew to pieces.

_"This way, Rodimus."_

The galaxy imploded.

"Stop!" I called. "Every time you say that something is destroyed."

The figure stared hard at me but its voice remained leveled. "_You don't belong here anymore. I want you to come home."_

"I can't leave Optimus."

I felt the smile, but did not see it. "_He's waiting for you. Come_. _This way, Rodimus."_

The universe disintegrated to nothingness. I woke depressed and hopeless.

Twin Twist removed the clamps holding my arms to the wall. "I know you was just playing robot-possum, _Bottomous._ Tell me, do you think you'll be able to bluff your way to freedom?"

I would have punched Twin Twist into next week but Swingline held me at gunpoint. "Tell me," I returned, "will your mouth ever clam up or am I going to suffer processor leakage from idiocy overload?" His glower was good enough.

They led me along the extended corridor and up three flights of stairs. It dawned on me; they held me in the barracks under the CDA chamber building.

I did not look forward to this. The Autobot justice system was not like American systems of jurisprudence. In our society, someone had to volunteer to represent the accused and produce the evidence contrary to the prosecution. At least, that was the system used when there was no Prime present.

As a Prime, I listened to all the facts and situations and weighed in the defendant's character and judged according to the person and situation. If the accused is found guilty, then judgement is dealt tailor-made rather than the one-size-fits-all that's common in Human systems. Growing up under Optimus Prime's administration, I know how effective tailor-made discipline is. I even know some Autobots who prefer Magnus' one-type-fits-all approach to Op's discipline.

Optimus can be painfully creative; just like putting Blurr in transformation lock for a week. Not happy. But I'm sure he's learned to slow down since then.

We stepped into the judgement hall/courtroom. For Autobots, this represented the end of freedom. From now on, all their actions and words would be construed suspicious. I knew this because historically speaking, it's happened time and time again, always with the same results; false imprisonment and witch hunts.

Twin Twist and Swingline clamped me into a cage facing the judge's bench. They sniggered and teased me from outside the cell, attempting to rouse my temper. Ignoring Pipsqueak and Dickless, I sent my attention across the courtroom, now all but completed. In my absence, workers planted seating both on the floor and in an upstairs section. Engineers labored hard, quickly installing lights while other teams bolted schedule plaques. Huge three-D images of past Autobot leaders (except me and Op) lined the walls.

Insulting. No Autobot Prime condoned this farce.

My guard dogs retired to find something else to do. I settled on the cage floor and waited for the inevitable. I shut off my optics and rested to conserve energy. I knew they already considered me guilty.

_"My, my. We set a trap for a birdie and get ourselves a retro-rat instead."_

Contrara glowered at me between energon bars. "Rodimus Prime. Primus do I feel vindicated at the last! You have no idea how glad I am to see you in such a pathetic predicament."

I tossed her a loped smile. "I'd invite you to join me, Contrara, but there's not enough room for the two of us _and_ your ego."

"Hah! How lucky for you I'm not allowed to stand much closer than this. I'd tear you apart like Magnus did Sixshot. Oh! You probably know nothing about that, do you? Well, don't worry, my little tin-plated pigeon. You will. In the meantime, I don't suppose you wish to disclose the whereabouts of your pet zombie, do you?"

"Op? Nah. Wherever he might be, I'm pretty sure he's having more fun than I am."

"Hm. Well, I'm sure sooner or later we'll deal with him."

"Whatever."

Contrara smiled like a vulture hovering over a mouse not quite dead. Contrara ate her prey alive. "Oh, one more thing, Dear Boy. _I_ am the prosecutor."

A masculine voice called Contrara's name and she abandoned me like an old plaything. Her smug face disintegrated into a cheerful grin and the old femmbot all but flew into the arms of council member Matic. They clucked and chattered as if they attended some social gathering rather than the trial of my life. They made me a trophy, displayed as a prize, gloated over and ridiculed.

Did anyone outside the building know I was here? Did anyone care? The courtroom filled. They cordoned me from would-be taunters. In a room occupied by three hundred people, I became isolated.

"Rodimus?"

Arcee's voice filtered through the muttering congregation. Finding honest concern in her optics, I crawled close to the energy bars. She glanced furtively left then right. She scrunched down so we could speak out of visual. "Rodimus... Rodimus, is it true? Did you order the execution of four hundred-"

"Arcee, Magnus-"

"He will not speak to me."

"You must help him."

She shook her head, confused. "You're not answering me. Hundreds of people are dead."

"No, I didn't order anything of the sort! How could I kill innocent people? What do I have to gain by it? Look at me, Arcee! Right now, what's important is that you find and help Ultra Magnus!"

I could not believe it. She started crying. "Rodimus, I'm so confused! I just want the truth! I-I want to believe in something substantial!"

I stared, baffled by her one-track mind. "I am NOT a murderer, Arcee! And Magnus needs your help!"

"Did you ever love me?"

"What?!" She could not be more self-involved if she were the only person on the planet. I wondered if anything else possibly mattered to her at this point. I made the effort to give her a fair answer: "Magnus loved you. How could I take that way from him? No, Arcee. I respected him too much to do that."

"So you don't love me at all?" I could not answer that and it hurt her even more. "My gawd," she squeaked. "My whole life is worthless."

"No," I objected. "You have-"

But she was gone. I sat there, crouched at the bottom of my prison, at the bottom of my life.

Someone struck the podium. "Everyone will find their seats right now. Everyone, sit. Sit." The crowd complied quickly and I stood, knowing most all optics lay on me; the spectacle in the witch trial.

From the side of the podium, a short, stocky Autobot stepped out and scanned the crowd right, left, and right again. "Under His Excellency's jurisdiction, I am given the directive to speak on behalf of the prosecution of the Autobots Verses One Rodimus Prime for crimes against the people and their Human allies. Heading these proceedings is His Excellency, Arbitous Chi. Prosecution is headed by Contrara of the Kai-Delta Circle. All rise."

Everyone rose around me and I felt faint, as though all their animosity were invisible poisoned darts. But I dared not sink to my knees.

The herald again scanned the throng of accusers and spectators. Then he spoke in a loud clear voice: "No doubt the nature of these proceedings will rouse emotions and anger. Under no circumstances will there be any disruption during court. To do so will result in immediate removal. No exceptions. If you think you cannot comply, please leave the room NOW." he paused, his optics stern, his face plate dark with discipline. "Be seated."

The congregation resumed their seats while Arbitous Chi strode in wearing white robes with red trim. He took the pulpit and roved his optics everywhere but on me. He spoke with a low, deep voice, each word clear and concise. "Is the prosecution prepared for their statement?"

Contrara, digipad in hand, all but jumped to her feet. "I am, Your Honor and I have witnesses on hand."

Arbitous Chi scribbled something before answering her. "Are your witnesses going to make the statement for you, Prosecutor?"

'No, Your Honor, I just-"

"Do not come to me with extra curricular information until or unless I ask for it. Is that clear, Counselor?"

"Very, Your Honor."

He wrote something else. "Thank you, Prosecution. Please make your statement."

Contrara strolled to the forefront. She held her head high and made perfect optical contact with the audience. "Ladies and gentlebots, I submit to you one, Rodimus Prime, Chosen of the Matrix, leader and governor-enactment over Metroplex. And traitor to his people, to the principles of loyalty and sanctity of life."

All optics turned to me. Some of them hit me with disdain, other lit with confusion and skepticism. I recalled what the Matrix said in the dream; I did not belong here anymore. Somehow I found comfort in the words and the dream.

As I kept my own optics forward to the wall behind Arbitous Chi, Contrara pressed on, each charge became another link in the chain of lies with which she intended to whip then choke me. "Rodimus Prime is unfit as Autobot leader; as Prime. Both his actions and _in_actions should be met with decisive punishment. This is about the duty and loyalty of the office of Prime and we, the citizens of Cybertron, must never condone sloppiness, disrespect or disregard for such a powerful position.'

'At the very least, the Prosecution recommends that Rodimus Prime resign his office and duties, that he surrender the Matrix and go quietly into exile. At the most, the prosecution recommends the harshest punishment. We wish to make Rodimus Prime an example of what the good people of Cybertron deserve to expect of the office and the prestige that comes with being an Autobot leader."

That was it. The Defense Council wanted my life blood. I could not move. I dared not so much as twitch a finger. The assembly around me shifted to neutral; I sensed a wave of doubt for Contrara's words and hoped it meant the audience at large held more trust for my administration than for Alpha Trion and his collective of bloodsuckers.

Arbitous Chi let the room fall silent for a two-minute count. I did not know the judge either personally or by reputation. He finally spoke, keeping his words crisp but unbiased. "Counselor, what you say and demand is far more complex than what I can simply deliver in the here-and-now. These are dire allegations and certainly require closer scrutiny."

Contrara smiled uneasily. "Your Honor, I have all the evidence, witnesses, test-"

"Who is on trial here?"

"Sir?"

"I said, who is on trial?"

She sent a quick blink in my direction. "I don't-"

"Just answer the damn question, Contrara." the judge lost his patience.

"Well, Rodimus Prime-"

"That's right. A Prime. Ergo, this is not some light spectacle to come and go in a three-day period. When Exel Pi asked me to preside, he gave me no details. So, I reserve the right to a cross-examination." Arbitous Chi stood to the audience. "Is there anyone here who wishes to act and speak in defense of the accused?"

I could not look back. I wore down like a bug, pinned to a collector's board while still alive.

"Anyone?" Arbitous added.

A familiar feminine voice rose above the hushed crowd. Not Arcee, but Akhal. My optics shot to life. "Here, Judge at Hand." she called, using an old court phrase. "I wish to stead for the defendant."

Arbitous shook his head. "You cannot. You clearly are not Autobot."

All optics flew in her direction, all but mine. She, however, raised her controlled voice for all to hear: "you did not specify the defense _had_ to be Autobot. You said _anyone_. Unless, of course, you are racist and dislike me because I am not like you."

A wave of mutters breezed across the room and Arbitous Chi struck the bench. "Who are you and what is your name?"

"I am Akhal. I work for archives and special investigations."

"You are not Autobot."

"I am Decepticon."

"Why do you wish to represent the accused?"

"The Decepticons have a stake in this trial. And did you not say you wanted a cross-examination? I am qualified for court procedure."

I watched Arbitous cast his optics upon Trion who returned the gaze with a shrug. The judge hesitated before answering Akhal. "Your chances of winning are slim to none. However, according to law, I have to permit you to represent the accused. You may take the table."

Akhal did not look at me as she passed by and sat at the defense table. She produced a digipad from subspace and attended it as Contrara stood.

"Your Honorship," the council member called, "I should like to make my first point."

"Yes, Counselor. Please resume."

The witch-queen rounded the prosecution table and swept up a data tablet. Your Honor, the fist charge against Rodimus Prime is addressed on your copy of the document which states in effect that the defendant, Rodimus Prime, is accused of secretly consorting with the enemy. In this context, it means the Quintessons on one degree and Decepticons on the other. Regarding the Quintessons, the defendant is charged with unauthorized and unsavory business deals with many unfortunate and tragic results. The defendant insists both ignorance and innocence in all matters regarding said business deals with the Quintessons and their D.B.A., Iridic Enterprises. I have here ..."

Contrara swept up three digipds from her table and lifted them for all to see before she passed them to Arbitous. " ... documents all bearing Rodimus Prime's very own signature."

Arbitous Chi examined the evidence then stabbed me with a disappointing glare. "Rodimus Prime. I see here such agreements as compensation for loss-and I quote-_'free labor acquired on Earth by means of directed advertisement stating such promises as not to be resisted by the population. Such promises include but are not limited to handsome financial reward, the highest healthcare benefit packages that encompass not only the laborer in question, but the laborer's immediate family. And an advanced education program entailing seventy-five percent assistance for books, tuition and room."_ Chi paused. "Did you write and sign all this?"

I did not think; my mouth just opened.: "if I did, it's a damn good program and I'd sign up for it myself."

"So does that mean you agreed to this contract?"

"No. It means I knew nothing about it and that my signature was forged." My denial clearly ticked Contrara off. She zipped to her table and plucked another pad.

"Your Honor, I wish to call Tempera to witness."

I watched Arbitous give her a deep nod. Tempera was usually Ultra Magnus' secretary but on occasion, she'd give me a hand.

Contrara paced as Tempera settled next to Arbutus Chi. "Tempera, would you please tell us who you are and what you do?"

"Um, I-I work under Ultra Magnus. I'm sort of his secretary."

"Tell us what you do." Contrara paced like a peacock. Her nose module lifted toward the ceiling, her strides came slow and deliberate. She would have made a great moving target in a shooting gallery.

Tempera glanced at Arbitous then Contrara. "I track and screen all calls and keep a log on all inner-city activities. Um, I also keep his files in order and handle processing for equipment and supplies and log communication between him and Rodimus Prime."

"And do you work for Rodimus Prime, also?"

"On occasion when Optimus needs to take time off for processing therapy."

"So... Tempera, you'd know Rodimus' signature if you saw it?"

"Yes."

"Now, we have representatives from the Human population here today. Perhaps you'd not mind explaining exactly what makes our signatures in general so unique-and Rodimus' in particular." Contrara paused in front of the judge's stand and stared at the secretary.

"Uh, well, each signature is ingrained with an energy frequency and no two frequencies are alike. Some Autobots even utilize two or three different energy imprints on the digipads and datatablets to make a single signature."

Contrara nodded, knowing this information. "So how does Rodimus Prime differ from everyone else?"

"He and Optimus use Matrix-frequency signature-"

"And can that energy be forged or duplicated?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Contrara took a digipad and handed it to Tempera. "Do you see Rodimus Prime's signature anywhere on this pad?"

Tempera scanned through it for a moment then shook her head. "No."

Contrara handed her a second tablet. "What about this one?"

Again Tempera examined a tablet. "Oh, yes. Here." she pointed my supposed signature to Contrara. "This."

Contrara gazed hard into the pad's digital content. "Are you _sure_ this is Rodimus Prime's signature?"

"Without a doubt."

Contrara stomped to me and held the digipad aloft for my inspection. "Is this your signature?"

"I did not sign that document," I calmly objected.

She hesitated. "Let me rephrase that, Rodimus. Do you sign your work like this? Or even _similar_ to it?"

"Yes," I answered begrudgingly.

Taking full advantage of the moment, Contrara paraded the pad like a prized game caught with much labor. "The defendant admits this could be his signature. So allow me to read what he _might_ have signed-"

"That's NOT what I SAID!" I protested.

Arbitous Chi pounded the pulpit once. "One more remark out of turn and you'll be penalized!'

I almost protested his reaction when Akhal snapped her fingers then shook her head, indicating my protest was not a smart idea.

I shut my mouth as the judge encouraged Contrara to continue.

"Thank you, Your Honor," she purred. "This is a communique exchanged between Rodimus Prime and someone named Ikksor Soam. And it reads: "I appreciate your generosity in conjunction of additional funds for Metroplex. As of to date, the Defense Council has failed to impart support for such programs as bio-mechanoid experiments and temporary assistance for occasional administrative leave. I must ask in turn, however, that you not mention the exchange of funds for raw materials. All support from my administration is performed under the table. Should the Autobots discover we are selling Humans for Quintesson consumption, I am certain there would be riots."

Her words, read from a digipad containing fraudulent data, caused an outrage across the courtroom. I didn't hear most of what was exclaimed, but I felt how the audience said it.

Quintesson consumption. I grew sicker.

Arbitous Chi slammed, pounded, shouted and finally ordered several arrests through the hall to regain control. One Autobot resisted arrest. He screamed at me and every foul word he spat stabbed me in ways I never knew I felt. I could face no one. The ruckus rocked and blasted the room for twenty-three agonizing moments. Reporters flashed cameras and shouted into their microphones while I stood in my prison, baffled.

"It's not me," I said to no one. "It's not me. It's not me."

After three other Autobots surrendered to council arrest, the chamber settled. The Wicked Witch of the Room continued. A conceit possessed her face and she gloated. "Tell me, something, Rodimus, do you think Optimus is capable of forging your signature?"

I hesitated, "No."

"And you are certain of this."

"Yes."

"And is it true that Optimus also processes ninety percent of your data work?"

"No," I corrected, "he does seventy-two percent."

"But he still does a large portion of it, is that true?"

"Yeah." I knew what she was trying to prove.

"No other questions for the witness, Your Honor." Contrara suddenly slipped to her table and Akhal stood.

"Sir," she said respectfully, "I have questions for the witness." Arbitous Chi granted Akhal permission to speak. She produced a small, unusual instrument that resembled a kazoo and approached Tempera. "Do you know what this is?"

Tempera accepted the oddly shaped object. She turned it over, shook her head and handed it back. "No."

Akhal acted surprised. "But you're a secretary. Are you sure you've never seen something like this before?"

"Yes. I have no idea what it is or does."

"Okay." Akhal approached Arbitous Chi. "Sir, do you know what this is?"

"Are you wasting my time, Counselor?"

"No, Sir. But I beg your patience." Akhal showed the object to Contrara: "How about you? Have you seen this before?"

"No, of course not-"

Akhal stepped away so that she held the small, finger-sized object, for the whole room to see. "This," she declared, "was invented seventeen million years ago. There's not many of them out in the market. The Autobot general of the day, Celsius Grey, had them banned among Autobot forces because his aerial commanders, Hawkeye and Pampero used the device liberally. They forged his specialized Matrix-energy signature in order to attain time off, give themselves raises or fund some of their personal operations. I found this nifty little device on the Five-Hand Planetary Auction for three energon chips.'

'Not possible to forge a Prime's signature, you say? The Late Combaticon Swindle kept ten of these in his quarters at all times and he could forge signatures from Soundwave to Starscream and Megatron. Nevertheless," Akhal digressed, "I know there's more to all this. Tempera, is that right?"

"Yes."

"You say you perform some jobs for the Autobot leader. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell us what sort of assignments they were?"

Tempera squirmed. "Well... I check his messages on his-on those days he's not able to do it. And I double-check all incoming and outgoing bills and match them to Optimus' work and I verify balances."

"Oh! Do you, now? So, um, I'm guessing that when Rodimus started making deals with Iridic Enterprises, you saw an influx of funds to and from Metroplex and Rodimus' personal finance accounts, right?"

"Rodimus doesn't have a personal account. At least that I'm aware of."

"All right. Well, the letter-in-question mentioned funds for Metroplex. I'm sure you've seen those, right?"

"Well, no. everything's accounted for."

Akhal pretended to look surprised. "Are you suggesting that Rodimus might have been honest enough to tell you everything regarding Metroplex's finances?"

"Well, all discrepancies were submitted to Ultra Magnus, Kup and Alpha Trion for review."

"And how many discrepancies have you encountered, say, in the last three years?"

"Two."

"TWO?" Akhal made a show of her reaction, acting more like a talk show host. I could not suppress my smile. She stepped from Tempera, appeared thoughtful then returned. "I don't suppose you know what discrepancies they were, would you?"

"Well, one was for the fireworks displays meant for last years' budget. Metroplex always uses eighteen boxes of flower-flares and Rodimus ordered seventeen. Magnus had to correct the discrepancy because the fireworks come in boxes of six."

"Ah. And the second?"

"Um, it regarded number of sack lunches for Mrs. Clewtician's physics class when they came to study transformation dynamics."

Akhal nodded. "And Rodimus Prime miscounted?"

"No, he forgot to order milk and water."

"Oh. Sounds pretty dire. No further questions, Your Honor."

Akhal returned to her table and I felt much better. She did not look at me, however. I wished for a break, just a few moments to rest from the stress that hung off my shoulders like a pair of neutron boulders. But Arbitous Chi did not order one. And along that line of thought, Contrara dismissed Tempera and produced another digipad as an assistant set a stack of six other e-tablets on Contrara's table.

One step forward, nine steps back.

The little victory Akhal had regarding my signature was only one of several points Contrara brought up. She read charges regarding consorting with the enemy and naturally she pointed to those days each month I disappeared without leaving a contact number.

She provided witnesses who lied about seeing me speaking on friendly terms with Quintessons.

The court proceedings quickly degenerated into a case of show-and-tell and though Akhal tried to cast doubt on such witnesses, as Exel-Pi and Orrus, the trial snowballed into a case of irrational insubordination against Alpha Trion in particular and the Defense Administration in general.

"How do we even know he's a real Prime?" Contrara asked. "Yes, he can access the Matrix, but the Dark One had the same ability. Does it not stand to reason that we should question the validity of Rodimus Prime's position?"

That was nothing short of a verbal slap for me.

"Rodimus Prime failed to protect such worlds as C-Minor, Paratron and Ordus Fy from destruction by the Quintessons and the Decepticons. He failed to put an end to the war between Z'Taxxan and Lanark. He almost failed to save us from the Hate Plague. How can we trust him in a future crisis?"

If those were the only sins Contrara dug out of my closet, the trial would have gone well. But she brought up the incident with Victor Drath and how his mistress, Michelle, claimed I raped her.

Contrara reiterated the incident when Springer was abducted by the Sweeps and dismantled-and how half a city was blown to pieces because of a miscalculation on my part.

Contrara brought up every crime, every slice of hearsay she could get her hands on.

At one point, I noticed how most Humans were long since departed from the courtroom. At first I thought they departed in disgust. Then I realized it could be because it was so late at night. On Cybertron, time of day is inconsequential. And as bloodthirsty as the Defense Administration was, they'd see me smelted before they even consider recharging.

Fortunately, Alpha Trion loved an audience and as the latest of Contrara's witnesses stepped down, His Trionness stood and received a smile from Arbitous Chi.

"Yes," Trion answered when given attention. "Your Honor, it has been a long and difficult day. I should wish to suggest a short recess for the sake of our Human friends and loyal supporters."

Arbitous Chi adjourned court until eleven A.M. The room emptied of accusers, supporters and spectators, none of whom were permitted to speak to me. Even Akhal left without saying anything.

I settled on the floor, smothered by isolation. How was Op? Was Cyclonus keeping an optic on him? I bowed over, hoping to get just a little bit of honest rest.

"You need to keep up your strength."

My optics activated and I found Akhal staring intently at me. She signaled a council guard to allow her limited access and she gave me a little bit of energon.

I forced a smile. "Well, how about this? I figured you'd be out partying with the rest of the town."

I could not tell if she left emotion out or simply found my statement illogical. "Your attempt at humor is weak at best, Rodimus."

"Sorry. I'm not feeling my best right now."

"Are you ill?" I did not know how to answer her. "Are you in pain?"

"Yeah, I guess. Phantom pain, maybe."

"I'm buying time until Cyclonus and Galvatron can get here."

Confusion jumbled my thought. "What's he-I don't get-"

"Your trial is the only thing allowing people to keep walking the streets on Metroplex right now. The Administration is allowing people to watch your trial and I have to make a spectacle in order to keep their attention off Mars."

"Cyclonus is on Mars?"

"If they're to rescue any survivors, we need to keep the attention here."

I shook my head. "I could not believe Contrara. Ninety percent of the B.S. she's coughing up had almost nothing to do with me."

Akhal frowned. "I suspect the prosecution will try to pull a strategic surprise tomorrow."

"I have no idea how you will deal with them, Akhal. I'm so tired and confused. No one seems interested in the truth."

"This is not about the truth, Roddi. It's about power play; the validity and necessity of an Autobot leader, Autobot politics and theatrics. Tomorrow concentrate on me only. Shield everyone else out. Now get some rest."


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

INFILTRATION

_We interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you this news update._

_ "Good evening, I'm Jack Pranscal for CBS News. Our latest West Coast correspondent, Nadeen Sune, is live at Metroplex with news of some disturbing developments. And we warn you: some of what you are about to see may be distressing. Nadeen?"_

_"Jack! The streets here at Metroplex are raw with rage and violence! As you can see behind me, the airport tower is swathed in plasma fire. People are battering down Metroplex security and destroying everything in their path. The CDA has attempted to crack down by re-declaring martial law, but even with shots fired and several Autobots wounded, there seems no end to the riots."_

_ "Can you tell us approximately when the riots started, Na_deen?"

"Jack-"

Static.

Pause.

_"We apologize. It seems we've lost the feed-"_

_ "Jack!"_

_ "We're receiving you, Nadeen."_

_ "Jack, I could not believe my eyes ... can-can we turn the camera there? There! Do you see it? Unbelievable! Defensor, the Autobot combiner, has just ripped off one of the city's cannons. We're standing just outside the thickest part of the carnage-Not one building in a six-block radius is left untouched by this ... this madness. The Defense Administration has issued their private militia to assist Metroplex city police. But it seems like their law enforcement is being swallowed by the violence-"_

Static.

Static.

Jack: "_We are experiencing technical difficulties through Nadeen Sune's feed. But our CBS affiliate from KBOT, Metroplex, Kara Watkins, is with us now. Kara, what can you tell us what is currently going on?"_

_ "Jack, the Autobot community is tearing itself apart. As you know, we're going into Day Three of Rodimus Prime's trial and there has been nothing but chaotic disarray. We spoke with Senior Security Advisor, Streamline earlier and he tells us over ninety Autobots have checked into repair bays with sudden depressive or anger disorder symptoms. Whether this has any connection with current events is unclear. Either way, all work on or in Metroplex has been suspended until further notice. Citizens, officers and workers have been ordered confined to their quarters. But at the moment, it's pretty clear no one is paying attention to the Defense Administration or its spokesbot, Alpha Trion."_

"_Kara, any further news about City Commander Ultra Magnus or City Director, Optimus Prime?"_

_"Jack, not one word is forthcoming about either Ultra Magnus or Optimus Prime. It's as if both of them have fallen off the planet."_

_ "As you know, Kara, the whole world is watching the trial right now and there are people protesting against the way the trial is being conducted. What have you heard about it from those living in the city?"_

_ "Jack, there is mass confusion. The Autobots, for the most part, love Alpha Trion, but they are also loyal to Rodimus Prime and these people are like children caught in a bitter divorce between two parents. They don't know who to support."_

_ "Kara, thank you so much."_

_ "Jack."_

_ "We will keep you up to date as events develop and we hope to get through to Nadeen Sune very shortly. I'm Jack Pranscal for CBS News in Central City, Oregon._

_*_

**Mars**

Cold-season winds brushed the dead-dry landscape. dust devils warped into frenzied gusts and died instantly. Decepticon footprints defaced the Martian red soil and traveled as far as three miles. Galvatron and Cyclonus led a chosen band of specialists along the outskirts of the Quintesson mining facility. While squad hung back per orders, Cyclonus and Galvatron advanced to a solid rocky outcropping piled upon a precipice overlooking the facility.

Of course, they could have sent faithful Ravage to do the reconnaissance. Cyclonus, however, had better plans for the kitty.

Galvatron scrunched next to his superior officer and friend. Nothing delighted him more than knowing he and the boys now have the opportunity to utilize their new weaponry. And what better way to test it than on a nest of Quintessons? Galvatron resurveyed the area through a set of refined binoculars. He scoffed both in amusement and disgust. "Count them, Cyclonus! One. Four. Six. Six sleepy little Sharkticons in a fifty-mile radius. Amateurs."

"They believe no one is foolish enough to raid the facility, Galvatron. After all, the Quintessons are allied with someone of great power. What have they to fear?"

Galvatron's optics flared. "This is a multi-level complex complete with a snack bar and community bath house. What would you like to do?"

Cyclonus re-examined the mining facility from their vantage point. The semi-warped base twisted into the Martian canyon. Wind-swept dust powered the landing pad atop the facility. Several docking bays pocketed the mining camp on all sides. Seven cannon turrets protruded from all sides. From the building's second 'twist, a waterfall of green-brown liquid refuse splattered a mountain of refuse rising from the canyon flooring. Not only were Quintessons gross, they made bad tenants.

"Eliminate the cannons first. Distract the guards on one side. Let's infiltrate here." Cyclonus pointed to the waste outlet.

Galvatron grinned. He knew exactly who to send in. The two Decepticon commander returned to their troop. The group of twenty soldiers and Optimus kept close to the ground, huddled in a shallow cave. The five femmes appointed ground support stood watch until Cyclonus returned. Soundwave pointed to Ravage in a question no one heard. Cyclonus' detached gaze drifted from the cybercat to Optimus.

A restless Frenzy kicked a stone at his foretoe and swung his arms. They clanged at his hips and he impatiently sighed. "Are we gonna do somethin' here? Cuz I'm starting to rust inta the landscape."

Galvatron grinned maliciously as he prepped a tracking device then checked a small fusion bomb. "It delights me to hear you complain, Frenzy. You know how I always look for ways and the means to keep you preoccupied.

"Uh..."

"The fact that you're unbearably short can be highly advantageous."

"Uh..."

"It's sheer glee to shove you into a-er-situation where no one else will fit."

"Uh..."

"Ergo, _Shortstuff_, you get to go through the waste lines and up the garbage chute."

"Uh, wait, Galvaron! Y'knows, I was just kidding!" Frenzy received _that look_ from both Galvatron and Cyclonus. "How come I gotta do it?" the punk whined. "Why not Ravage? He climbs better than me!"

Cyclonus smiled cold. "The squeaky wheel get fixed, Frenzy. Time to go."

Galvatron chortled and purposely dropped the tracker and the fusion bomb. "Oops!"

Frenzy freaked and grabbed the falling bomb. The tracker bonked him on the head with a resounding KLANG! "Ow!" Frenzy yelled. "Hey, you coulda blown us all up, ya moron!"

"Don't be such a spineless glop of grease," Galvatron sneered. "I have the detonator here."

Cyclonus intervened with a shake of his head. "Soundwave, you team hits first."

Frenzy softly cussed. "I hardly call crawlign' through a sewer system a hit, Cyclonus."

Soundwave charged his weapon. "Silence, Frenzy."

Cyclonus continued, "Ladies," he said to the femmes, "you have the cannon. Galvatron, you, Soundwave, Flatline, Mudslide and Inclimate move during the raid. I and the rest will follow in."

Soundwave and his team headed out except Ravage. The panther sat next to Optimus when Cyclonus approached. "I made a promise to Rodimus we'd look after you. I'm certain that did not mean taking you along to battle."

"Rodimus would find that amusing on one hand and a bit out of bounds on the other, Cyclonus."

Optimus did not respond to Cyclonus' bashful smile. The Decepticon commander could not look his charge in the optic until he regained composure. "That is certainly true, Optimus. Nonetheless, I am not comfortable with the idea of you on the forefront. I'd rather you stay with Ravage. After all, we both know you are not ... as you were."

"I can handle it, Cyclonus."

"This is not data processing, Optimus Prime. Split-second decisions cannot be reprocessed."

"I know. But I still think I can handle it. If I get into a problem I will call for help. Or you can assign Ravage to back me up if that makes you feel more at ease."

Cyclonus gazed at the silent black cat. Ravage sat attentive, ready to move at the word of command. Cyclonus nodded, agreeing to the idea.

Frenzy snuck down the canyon to avoid flying. Soundwave guided him via internal com channels. The communication officer ignored Frenzy's complaints and expletives as the punk cassette climbed his way into the disposal system.

The Decepticon infiltration party waited, watching the facility with intense anticipation.

Optimus unintentionally laid his hand on Ravage's back. His thoughts raced for Rodimus and he wished they'd move the operation more quickly. Things were not well either on Earth or Cybertron and he regretted his inability to intercede.

Soundwave's resonate voice vibrated across Decepticon comm channels: "Frenzy has succeeded. We may proceed to phase two."

Before Cyclonus spoke the command to attack, all the bases' entryways slid open. Six winged snakes darted out every side. All Decepticons laid low and huddled close to the shadows until the senior officers assessed the new threat. Galvatron and Cyclonus watched the deadly but graceful Quintesson air support. Cyclonus studied their sleek design and flying capabilities while Galvatron searched for fire power and weaknesses.

The Decepticon leader spoke through a private channel to his second-in-command: "There's nothing to indicate their speed capacity, Galvatron."

"I see no exterior weaponry. It might be internal, optical lasers or an oral weapon."

"I have an idea." Cyclonus hunched, prepared to spring into flight. "Maybe they're smart enough to take bait." Galvatron gripped his commander's wrist, his optics silently expressing his reservation on an otherwise foolhardy idea. "Not to worry, Galvatron. I have no intention of dying. Set up a shooting gallery."

Galvatron visage brightened like a child, he let Cyclonus go and ordered a battle line reformation as their commander leapt off the cliff side, transformed and sped through the Martian air.

In one-seventieth of a second, the dragon-like creatures tailed the Decepticon like vultures on a flying turkey dinner. Cyclonus veered away, leading his entourage of serpents further and further from home. To his surprise, they kept up in speed. But were they equally as agile?

Cyclonus 'bellied-up" and flew upside down. He twisted round a towering rock face, daring the tagging snakes to do the same. Cyclonus dipped into a shallow canyon where a sheet of ice barely reflected his image in the cold Martian light. The serpents glided along and chittered like a swarm of cicadae. One serpent poured on speed and inched its way toward Cyclonus.

Not to be outdone by a mechanical animal, the Decepticon leader pressed on the throttle and shot straight up. He twisted once, twice, then dropped like a chunk of ice. His momentum stirred dust and rocks, leaving a few serpents in the wake of his passing.

At that point, the Decepticons realigned their formation and held steady, waiting for the signal. At the last moment, Galvatron handed a laser rifle to Optimus Prime.

"I hate to see anyone get bored during a field exercise," he joked.

Optimus stared him in the optics and recalculated the weapon without looking at it. "Very considerate of you, Galvatron."

"Do not thank me. You might miss." Optimus did not quite smile, but his optics lit with the idea of a little competition.

Here they came. Optimus checked his payload. Twenty shots. He counted fifty-five 'birds'. Cyclonus already hit mach two. So the targets would be next to impossible to hit on the fly-by. Soundwave ticked off the distance and speed; eight thousand feet, mach 1.9. wind velocity at point two four knots.

Optimus read into the balance between Martian atmospheric disturbance, light distortion and proximity. He took aim, held steady and remained mindful of all other weapons charging around him. Hopefully he held a reliable weapon.

Optimus did not hear Soundwave at the last nanosecond. He caught the perfect moment and shot two, six, ten times.

Galvatron followed with three bursts while the majority of the other warriors waited too long.

Cyclonus made his one-shot pass and dropped into the canyon. The serpents, now a full one-third fewer, did the same. Eager to join, the Decepticon femmes dove off the precipice, shifted to jet mode and engaged in elimination. Cyclonus shot straight into space where he vaporized a series of satellites.

Far below, one Decepticon femme chased a serpent round and round the facility as the landing pad lifted and flowered. A Quintesson escape ship spewed clouds of billowing hydrogen.

The chasing femme shifted back to robot form, grabbed her prey by the tail and climbed along the best's back. Using the dark crest atop its head, the femme guided the monster-now-missile into the ship.

The corkscrew ship blew and took the serpent with it. The daring femme smacked the second level balcony. Another femme and the 'con called 'Inclimate' flew to her rescue. Her sisters, meanwhile, encircled the facility, either in jet mode or on serpent bareback. One by one, they bombed the laser cannons.

At the destruction of cannon Number Three, Galvatron led his team into the facility doorways. Cyclonus landed next to Optimus and Ravage. "Seems too easy," he grumbled.

Optimus nodded as his optics surveyed the scene. A few guards poured out the broken doors, but not enough to overpower Galvatron. "I do not think they planned for a Decepticon attack, Cyclonus."

Upon Galvatron's incoming signal, Cyclonus led the remaining detachment across the only bridge. Three Decepticons eliminated oncoming attackers as they fled or charged. One level below, Galvatron and two of his team members blasted Sharkticons left and right.

"Make short work of them, boys!" Galvatron ordered. "I want to be home in time to watch wrestling finals!"

Cyclonus and his staff swarmed into the facility while the femmes joined Galvatron. They pressed inward and exterminated potential 'competition with almost no effort or resistance.

Optimus followed the entourage of Decepticon forces straight into the nest of Quintessons. One thing about the Decepticons under Cyclonus: no room for inefficiency. Galvatron verbally snapped at slackers and his voice echoed from several unseen areas. Quintessons and their minions hung upside down, suspended by energy chains. Most hung dead, shot through the optics. Optimus suspected most Quints did not see their attackers, or if they did, they did not live long enough to bargain for their lives.

Ravage sniffed the air and snarled in disgust. Sulfur and old death stagnated in the reprocessed atmosphere.

A femme flew up from a lower level and spoke quietly to Cyclonus. She gestured so that Optimus guessed she spoke of prisoners. Cyclonus silently nodded then answered an internal communique. His bright optics caught Optimus' attention. Cyclonus cut the communique and signaled for Optimus and Ravage to follow him the next level down.

At a sentry's corner, Galvatron, Hellion and Offkey held a five-faced Quint lord at gunpoint.

Galvatron flipped the settings on his rifle from stun to vaporize. "Careful, Cyclonus," he said humorously, "this one speaks American English."

Cyclonus did not smile, though Optimus could tell the Decepticon commander liked the joke.

"Tell us, Quintesson, who authorized your control over this facility?"

"I'll tell you nothing, Decepticon. Our business associates have paid us handsomely in advance."

"Hmm." Cyclonus gazed at Optimus then at Galvatron. "Very well. Optimus, let's you and I go on a tour. Galvatron, you may play Quintesson Wheel of Fortune. Let me know if you've won anything." the Decepticon commander herded Optimus and Ravage out the area and down the next level so that neither of them heard Galvatron's interrogation techniques.

Decepticon Team Three worked swiftly to free Human slaves and assist wounded and disabled. One man, hardened and haggard by three months of forced labor, approached Optimus and Cyclonus. His bearing alone told them he was once a combat soldier.

"I was wondering when someone was going to get wind of this operation. The Quintessons have kept it working full-force from their basses on Cybertron.

"Bases?" Cyclonus repeated. "Rodimus Prime said he found only one."

"There's three of them."

Optimus lowered to one knee. The Human's face appeared strangely dark as though death hovered over him. "Do you know their location?"

"Phantom Zone. Constellate Cygnus A, Level Six and the third is somewhere along the rout to Shredder's Gilt Gorge."

The last one is in the Dark Zone," Cyclonus added.

"Commander," Soundwave's harmonic vocalizer called. "This may be of interest."

Cyclonus left with Soundwave but Optimus lingered. The Autobot took everything in; the sights and sounds of agony, distress and death, the general feel of bloodlust resulting in emotional and physical torture. Part of Optimus mourned for those who suffered. Part of him smoldered in confused anger. How could one species do this to another? Evil certainly enjoyed creating victims.

Cyclonus returned. Resolve burned within his optics. "We're not leaving this facility operational."

He just finished the initial sentence when Galvatron joined them wiping his hands on a towel. "There are three preparation facilities on Cybertron one of which lies in the old Gilt Gorge. Not only were the Humans here processing black energon, they _became_ the black energon."

"Yes," Cyclonus concurred. "Soundwave just showed me the processing center."

Galvatron glanced to Optimus. "Then you'll like this one, Cyclonus. This facility is funded through the Defense Administration by special interest groups organized through Contrara of Severtek City, Exel Pi from the Corregation Square and Arbitous Chi."

"Not surprising," Cyclonus frowned.

Galvatron leaned forward slightly and added, _"forty years ago._"

Optimus grew cold. "They must have operations and bases all through the quadrant then! It means Mars is one of several."

Cyclonus' optics narrowed. "All the mining done on Mars must be designed to build other facilities elsewhere-to accommodate and include other species of life forms. Galvatron, you and I will go to Earth with a strike force." He turned to Optimus. "You will rescue Ultra Magnus first. We'll need someone who knows how to control Autobot City. Soundwave will remain here to tear down this facility."

The Mars mining station was not foremost on Optimus' mind, however. "Cyclonus, you _must_ rescue Rodimus first. They intend to execute him."

Cyclonus surprised their Autobot charge by laying hands on Optimus' arms. "I want you to understand: We're not going there to be heros; we're going in to eliminate the entire administration, Optimus. We're going in to stop something worse than war. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"All of CDA must go," Cyclonus insisted, "that includes Alpha Trion."

"I support you, Cyclonus," Optimus returned. All I care about is Roddi and Magnus."

The Decepticon leader gazed at Galvatron. "Prepare the space bridge and attack force, Galvatron."

Utilizing new technologies, the Decepticon space bridge acted more like the transporter as seen in old Star Trek movies. Optimus liked it more than the pick-you-up-and-dump-you-off archaic model as initialized under Megatron's rule. Megatron's reputable impatience led to the demise of many of his own scientists, stunting Decepticon technology by several megania.

The space bridge cycle completed. It took a few seconds, however, for shapes to assemble themselves into recognizable patterns. Optimus' visual components glitched worse than before. At least shapes came clearly, even if colors inverted or remained absent altogether. His scanners picked up signs of several council-appointed guards lying along the left side of the bridge like so many discarded bricks.

Two Decepticon femmes slipped out of shadow, as though they melted out from it. They greeted the invader party with charged weapons.

One femme in white and chrome greeted Galvatron and Cyclonus with a simple nod. "The militia is in full-force, currently battling Defensor. Please, this way. The guards will not be alone for long."

"Ash," Cyclonus called, "Rodimus Prime."

"I do not know. All entrances and exits in the city have been barred. The runway was destroyed earlier this evening. Please. This way." She led them six steps before shifting down into a sleek white and silver leopard. They followed her silent lead down a trap door near the city's eastern wall. The passage dropped into a lift which lowered the task force into the second level.

Thundering footfalls muttered above them. Optimus searched the darkness above. Part of him had no idea what was going on. But the Matrix side sensed the administration militia used a giant automaton enforcer to recon the area. It thunked the ground searching and reporting before it shifted into tank mode. Optimus turned to the femme called Ash. "Do you know where they are holding Ultra Magnus?"

"South side detention by the barracks. They confined him after he eliminated Sixshot."

Optimus thought it odd the Decepticon femme should spoke of a member of her kind with such indifference. But maybe it wasn't so unusual. Sixshot worked for CDA. His loyalty was not to his people.

Cyclonus folded his arms, his optics darkened with scrutiny. "Optimus. Rescuing Magnus will do little good so long as the council militia run Metroplex; riot or no riot."

"I can save Magnus on my own. I know how to get through the city without difficulty. It's getting to Rodimus that will be difficult. Knowing Alpha Trion, he'll be close to Rodimus, bragging. If you can keep them unbalanced, I can free Magnus and the two of us can deal with Alpha Trion."

Galvatron frowned, "Whatever we do, we must do it all within the next two hours if we wish to use the element of surprise. We must strike first, strike hard and strike fast before Soundwave blows the Mars facility."

"Galvatron is correct," Cyclonus agreed. "Destruction of the Mars facility will mean all contractual alliances between the CDA and the Quintessons will be breached. Everyone will be fair game."

Optimus' focus jumped from Cyclonus to Galvatron and back. "I only need half an hour."

Galvatron looked bemused. "And if you should encounter complications?"

Optimus' optics darkened. "I'm in no mood for complications."

Optimus picked the safer and swifter routes across Autobot city. He drove cautiously, ever mindful of his companion-cat's invisible presence. Ravage hugged the shadows and crevices; invisible to the unwary, but available at a second's notice.

CDA militia crawled Metroplex's streets. Signs, posts and internal communique via personal channels ordered all Autobots either return to work or their personal quarters. Automoton tanks and dogbots attempted discouragement by presence, but even those officers who used physical force failed to control rioters or disobedient civilians.

Optimus paved a course outside rioting circles where one throng of rebellious Autobots worked at dismantling _Rerouters_, a recreation facility sponsored by the Defense Administration. Burned or shredded flags, banners, posters and signs praising Trion and the CDA littered the streets.

"Halt!" someone commanded behind Optimus. He heard the whine-charge of an ion pulse rifle.

Optimus transformed and faced Paisanax. The military officer waited for a verbal response. Distantly, a bomb exploded and cheers rose about the beleagured city. "Sir," Paisanax tried to sound authoritarian, "I will have to ask you to come with me peacefully and quietly. You are under arrest for violation of Metroplex curfew regulated under martial law as declared by the Cybertronian Defense Administration."

"Why do you work for them?" Optimus gazed with emotionless optics. He did not recognize the Autobot's facial features, but Optimus-or rather the Matrix-knew the body shape, knew the person and his name.

"I was given orders to arrest anyone-"

"They are not Prime. I did not choose them. I did not approve of them. Rodimus is your leader, Paisanax. But you cater to rebels-"

"No! You are the rebel!"

"I am your guardian. Rodimus is my emissary. You have rebelled against me. Put your weapon aside, Paisanax. End the oligarchy. I will not tolerate it."

"No! No! I don't believe you! You're a deadbot-Primus, you are a zombie-"

_p'teeeeeee... _Another rifle charged behind Paisanax. "Don't argue with the city director, Pal. He'll more likely hang you by your audio sensors as look at you."

Paisanax slowly complied then laced his hands over his head.

"Good boy. Now, sit."

Again the military officer obeyed and when he turned, he recognized the aerial commander. "Springer! What the-"

"Shuddup! I've already had four fights with your friends today." Springer waited for the military officer to sit. He procured Paisanax's energy handcuffs and secured the guy to the building rail. Springer spoke as he moved, "Nice of you to pop in, Optimus. But your timing needs tweaking."

"I'm looking for Ultra Magnus. Order cannot be restored unless the city commander calls a truce."

"Why can't you do it? You're an in-charge type."

"It's not in my job description."

Optimus meant it as fact, but Springer found it amusing. "Well, alright but you shouldn't be out here by yourself."

"I'm not," Optimus pointed to the shadows of a fallen column where Ravage crouched, waiting with perfect patience.

Springer smiled, uncomfortable at the cat's contemplative gaze. "Alright. So you have a nanny. But you still shouldn't go sneaking around by yourself."

Optimus folded his arms and gave the aerial commander a cast iron stare. Across the way, Ravage snarled as though bored. The cybercat sniffed the air before stretching his jaws in a yawn.

"Right," Springer agreed, "Uh, how about I accompany you so _I_ can stay out of trouble?"

Optimus turned away. "You're already in trouble, Springer." The city director's long strides carried him half the block before Springer realized he'd have to partially run to catchup before Optimus transformed and rolled along the torn and cluttered street.

*

Magnus hung suspended from the ceiling. He mentally swung between regretful consciousness and dreams of less complicated circumstances. Every inch of his frame ached after uncounted hours of torture. Magnus sorely berated himself. His considered his suffering just punishment for failure to adhere to his responsibilities.

He downright failed to support Rodimus. Magnus betrayed Metroplex by allowing (of all things) a girl to distract him. Rather than investigating Rodimus' activities, Magnus should have investigated Trion and his habitual interference in Prime's administration. Instead of complying with the CDA, Magnus would have complied with Metroplex senior staff.

Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda-as Rodimus put it.

That stupid fight they had in Optimus' office had to be caused by a number of setups. After all, the way Optimus handled affairs with Twin Twist was Rodimus' business, not his. But maybe it wasn't so much of Optimus' disciplinary style as it was how Magnus took it; that Optimus was infringing on his 'turf'. Optimus had every right to do what he did.

Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda. Now the city commander had to think his way out of this predicament and do so cleverly. Trion was not going to leave any bolts loose.

Upon public arrest, Trion humiliated Magnus by declaring him a traitor to Autobots everywhere. Trion stood before a first-response news crew, soaking up the attention like a fresh celebrity. "I... I have no words to convey the horror... " He choked up and looked away. Gaining lost composure, the elder stared Magnus in the optics and turned angry. "What have we done, Ultra Magnus, to cause you to commit such a horrific deed? You -you might as well have chosen one of our innocent Human friends and splattered their frail bodies along the wall! We will not-and cannot tolerated this sort of behavior to even repeat itself! I will... seek a proper judgement to ensure you will NEVER step foot in Metroplex again!"

Trion turned to take his procession and his prisoner out of the public eye. He appeared stricken and downcast, even leaned against Swiss for physical support.

The throng of reporters snapped more photographs and thrust mini recorders above their heads.

"Alpha Trion-"

"Mister Trion-"

"Sir!"

"Elder Trion, if you please, one more-"

Trion turned, grief stricken. "Please," he begged. "I promise to make another statement later. Yes, yes, I know you need more information and I promise you'll get it. But for now, be kind and patient, my dear friends."

Those reporters who respected and loved the Autobot grandfather prompted their colleagues to follow Trion's wishes.

CDA security planted Magnus in an ultra-security carrier and carted him away. Autobots and Humans alike watched, staring with hollow eyes. Magnus stared back, not a bit remorseful. Trion could lie and carry on an emotional game as he pleased. Magnus knew the truth.

As security turned a corner to descend into the city's second level, Magnus caught sight of Loni Carlson from KSUN. No cameraman hovered over her; she stood alone with a tablet in hand, writing notes. She scribbled quickly and when her eyes met Magnus' optics, she flipped her note pad around.

I'VE SEEN THE SHAPE SHIFTER

As quickly as she flashed it, she turned away. Magnus wondered if she knew about Trion and the true nature of his band of ... _pokies._

But Magnus did not get his hopes up too high. Knowledge was power. But it would not save the Autobots should the administration choose to exile Rodimus.

Security hauled Magnus to a storage room under the city barracks. They clamped him from the ceiling while Twin Twist gleefully chained his feet to the floor.

Magnus stared at the short-tempered punk. "You know," he chimed, "I'm impressed you managed to crawl up from the laundry chute. Or did someone dig you up and wash you off? No, never mind that, Twin Twist. I suddenly realized why Optimus dangled you from the top of that building."

Twin Twist grunted. "Well, I have friends in all the right places."

"Maybe," Magnus mused as Twist snapped clamps on his feet, "I'm sure, however, that Optimus, given the chance, would rather have executed you as a traitor-"

"HE'S NOT A CLANKING PRIME! ALRIGHT? Optimus holds no power! I'm not afraid of him, Magnus."

"That didn't stop him, Twin Twist. Prime's the only one who holds his leash. And now that Rodimus is out of the way... and not knowing where Optimus is... well, I think you're taking a big risk. Optimus is aware of your questionable activities and loyalties."

"Your fear tactics won't intimidate me! I got good friends!" Twin Twist opened a nearby cabinet and selected a set of pain sticks used in high-level combat training and activated their tips. The pain sticks glowed soft green in the otherwise dimly-lit storage room and cast a ghastly color along his face.

Twin Twist stepped back as the door down the hall opened then closed. An anticipatory smile crept over the Jumpstarter's face. "Now the fun begins."

The silent security guards departed and saluted Alpha Trion and Simplex-T as they entered. The CDA members greeted Twin Twist with casual nods. To Magnus' horror, two Quintessons entered the room and floated just behind Trion. Their green and white faces of Greed stared with emotionless anticipation.

Twin Twist twirled the sticks. "He's got a mouth on him, Sir."

"Excellent. Perhaps it will have something useful to say."

Magnus eyed the Quintessons. "Made a few new friends, Alpha Trion?"

"Business associates, Ultra Magnus."

"Oh. Of course. A friend to you is someone you can manipulate. So... are you here to watch me get dismantled?"

Trion lifted his face like a saint. "Ultra Magnus; I'm surprised at you! I'm not here. I am spending the entire evening with Rox listening to his collection of Chinese eighteenth Century poetry. And a _fine_ collection it is, too! Filled with enlightened ideas and principles the likes of which I'd recommend to you if you weren't such a puppy dog. Speaking of which, you broke Arcee's heart."

"I was tired of her self-absorbed, one-track mind."

Trion smiled, pleased. "Mm. Perhaps you should have learned a few points from her, Magnus. Loyalty, duty and knowing your place in the greater scheme of things. It would have spared you this disciplinary action."

"I also got tired of kissing your aft."

Trion grabbed a pain stick and swaked it across Magnus' middle. Potent raw energy snaked about his thorax. Magnus' exterior rippled with the shock and his plating cracked under the strain of a thousand electrical bites.

Magnus screamed.

Satisfied, Trion tossed the stick to Twin Twist.

Magnus shuddered and berated his weakness and lack of self control. As life blood trickled from fresh wounds, he vowed to give them no further satisfaction.

Where is Optimus Prime?

Why haven't you kept better tabs?

What has Rodimus told you?

What do you know of Decepticon activity?

Why haven't you been reporting everything?

Why were you investigating Mirage?

The pain stick struck him behind the knees. Magnus gulped air until he overtaxed his neutral hydroidic systems. His visual receptors phased out of sync. Twin Twist struck him across the back, twice across the abdomen. That was nothing compared to the hole Twist burned into Magnus' left leg. He shoved the damned stick deeper and deeper until Trion called him off.

Tears drenched Magnus' face. He lifted his optics toward the ceiling to maintain his silence. He barely heard Trion's questions anymore. The pain sticks whipped him until Magnus no longer felt certain areas of his body. Twin Twist's enthusiasm delivered Magnus a double-shot more than once. He even seared Magnus under the left optic, leaving a partly-melted spot on Magnus' cheek.

The city commander gave them no answers, or at least, none they wanted. Exhausted and agonized, Ultra Magnus hung against the steadfast shackles. His life blood coated the floor so that Twin Twist slid away when he hit Magnus again. Twist tried too hard, too soon to regain traction and his legs slipped apart. He landed face-out, chin smashed up and in.

Magnus did not see the moment. He clamped against the scream, optics shut off. He heard snorts and chuckles from the present group of Quintessons.

Fed up with Magnus' self-control, Trion snatched a stick from Twin Twist and whacked it across Magnus' face. "ANSWER ME!" he demanded.

THWAK! Across the right side.

THWAK! Across the left side.

Trion sank the stick into the wound he first inflicted and left it there. Raw energy spiked agony through Magnus' systems. The Elder came close so as to speak softly: "Oh, Magnus. _Why_ do you make me do this to you? You and Rodimus... all I ever asked was for a little bit of loyalty. But the two of you constantly bucked the system. You insisted on doing things your way. Why can't you just cooperate? Now... I have to go to court. But I want you to stay here and think things through. I hope you'll change your mind, Hmm? Just join the good guys, Magnus. We'd _love_ to have you on our side. Think it over, alright?"

Trion removed the pain stick out and Magnus blacked out. The Elder sighed. "I'm sorry," he said to his Quintesson cohorts. "I seemed to have underestimated his constitution."

The first Quint with the Face of Hate gave Trion an evil smile. "Not to worry, Alpha Trion. We configured the amount of time you'd waste torturing Ultra Magnus. You've surpassed our estimate by seventeen point nine minutes. It's been an enjoyable display."

Trion looked horrified and tossed Twin Twist the pain stick. "If you knew I was wasting my time, why didn't you suggest something else?"

"We wanted to watch." said another Quint.

Trion glared.

Twin Twist secured the pain sticks and admired his handiwork. Magnus hung there, a limp and bleeding doll. As the Autobot elder talked quietly with the Quintessons, Twin Twist smeared his finger along Magnus' chest and tasted his blood.

"Twin Twist," Trion called. He ignored Twist's sheepish and guilty expression, "we are leaving now. Wait here fifteen minutes. Then remove him and lay him outside the city. Be sure to use all the evidence I've given you. Solara will not challenge me ever again. Clean up this mess."

"Whatever."

Trion did not like the answer but let it go for the moment. He escorted his Quintesson guests out, hoping Twin Twist was smart enough to drag Magnus' mangled form through the back exit so as not to stain the hallway.

Twin Twist cleaned the walls, ceiling and the floor. He mopped, scrubbed and sanitized. "I should make you clean this up," he snarled at the unconscious prisoner. "You're always telling me what to do. You, Prime and the stupid city director." Twin Twist picked up the painsticks and mopped the floor again before taking his dirty water outside for a final dump. He needed to hurry so as not to be caught dragging Magnus' limp form outside Metroplex. Twist's problem, however, was Magnus' bulk and weight. How was he supposed to haul out something the size of an igyak?

One thing at a time. He stepped out, bucket in hand and glanced left to right. The town lay quiet and unaware it was about to lose it city commander.

Struck from above and behind, the Autobot tripped and landed on his face. A large, heavy foot kicked him over and pinned him down. Twin Twist's pain sticks glowed eerily in the pre-dawn dark.

A second attacker picked them up and illuminated his face in the eerie green glow: Springer.

"My goodness, Optimus," the aerial commander smirked, "seems you caught yourself a retro rat. Better not let it bite you; might be rabid."

Twin Twist gasped and choked under Optimus' foot. "Wh-what are you doing here?! What the sludging pitt do you think yer doing?! You could have killed me!"

The city director knelt, one knee firmly on Twin Twist's chest. His optics dimmed to a creepy sadness. "Did you sell your spark for a few moments of perverse pleasure, Twin Twist? Or are you somehow obligated to Trion so that you are his butler, his bath assistant and his bitch?"

Twin Twist choked again. "I thought they were going to kill me! Trion and his demons-"

Springer impatiently twirled a pain stick in his hand. Optimus' optics dimmed with displeasure. "Is that so?" His voice dipped lower, sending surges down Twist's back. "I would have thought Trion more gracious, promising you wealth upon his coup." Optimus let up and stepped back. "I'll let Trion know you won't be collecting." Optimus ended his pep-talk and Springer sunk a pain stick into Twin Twist's cranium.

Optimus watched dispassionately as the Jumpstarter's form wriggled and jolted. His optics flashed twice before his body color vanished and froze. Without second thoughts, Optimus entered the barracks. Springer tailed behind. He twirled his pain stick and smashed every CDA propaganda poster they passed.

Finding Magnus was no more difficult a task than following muddy footprint left by a child. Although amused by Twin Twist's shoddy janitorial work, Optimus took no chances. He gave Ravage the lead and the black cat sauntered along the corridor, sniffing and spying niche and crevice for possible traps, bugs or cameras. Not quite all clear. Springer took up the tedious task of camera-busting. He put his heart into every swack of pain stick or aimed shot with his gun.

Ravage gave his personal stamp of approval when he picked up one camera and shook it like a toy. Optimus left his feline escort outside the storage room.

He and Springer visually assessed Magnus' physical condition. Working in silent tandem, Springer cut Magnus loose while Optimus caught his friend and gently lowered Ultra Magnus' broken form to the floor.

"Op-Op-" Magnus' voice would not come. All the suppressed screams stressed his vocals. He wanted to warn of Roddi's peril; of Optimus' own danger. But nothing, nothing. Nothing. He fell limp against Optimus and oh, so grateful to feel his friend's laser core. Life against his own lifelessness. Optimus wrapped his arms about Magnus' pained body. The city commander took comfort in his friend's strength.

_ "Forgive me, Optimus." _the city commander inwardly pleaded._ "I swear_ _I will never betray you again_,"

He heard Optimus' low, soothing tones, not unlike the gentle murmur of distant thunder, the promise of rain and relief from the torturing summer sun. No words, just sound and comfort.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

IMPLOSION

_This is the CBS Evening News Special Western Edition with Jack Pranscal live from Central City, Oregon._

_ "Good evening and welcome to our special west coast edition. Four days ago, the entire Autobot civilization turned upside down, rocking with conspiracies, betrayal and murder. The results of which are felt around the world and across the known galactic quadrant. CBS has learned of recent and disturbing activity taking place on Mars. Our NASA correspondent Kelly Waveder reports."_

_ "Jack, NASA astronomer Tekie Callers has just confirmed that explosions have taken place on Mars. The details are not forthcoming as all communication to and from Mars has been disrupted for the fourth week in a row. Amateur astronomers from all over the globe have turned their eyes and their telescopes onto the red planet, offering whatever assistance they can to find out exactly what is going on.' _

_ 'NASA says they are determined to find out the cause of the communication blackout, with or without help from the Autobots. They are planning to send a team along the trade routes as early as next week. But it takes time to pull professionals and resources together. People want answers and if they're not getting it from the Autobots, they are determined to get the answers for themselves."_

_ "Kelly, are any other countries involved in this investigation?"_

_ "Jack, six other countries including Canada, Japan, China and Russia are sending probes later this week. The problem with probes, however, they tend to disappear, which is why Australia and the U.S. are sending manned ships in that direction."_

_ "Kelly, thank you. We turn, now to our CBS affiliate, KBOT Metroplex and our correspondent, Loni Carlson as she reports the turmoil and chaos in Metroplex, Oregon."_

_ "It's been twenty-four hours since the historic trial of Rodimus Prime recessed. Autobot City sources state that one quarter of Metroplex is on fire and no sooner is one fire put out than another is started. Rioters have wracked the streets with violence and chaos of unimaginable proportions. No one is permitted in or out of the city. The militia, currently under the Cybertronian Defense Administration, cannot restrain the turbulence.'_

_ 'What's more the trial, now hailed as the political lynching of Rodimus Prime, has twisted and turned with accusations, unchecked facts and a surprise voluntary attorney for the defense. Her name is Akhal. And **she** is a Decepticon.'_

_ 'With the city roiling with civil unrest, the only place safe enough is right around the administration chamber. And as some Autobots have pointed out, oddly enough, this is the center of the storm; the cause and focus of dissent. And in one hour from now, the political lynching will recommence, and most likely, add fuel to a city already at war with itself. Loni Carlson, CBS News, Metroplex."_

*

Sleep eluded me. It bounced around my head in a game of hide-and-find. People trickled into court after recess. Their disdainful stares needled me like poisoned darts. Why did they hate me? Why were they willing to listen to false testimonies by bureaucrats? Wasn't *I* supposed to be the Autobot leader? Wasn't I good enough?

I doubted my own innocence. My signatures stained several digipads like bloodied fingerprints. I betrayed everyone. Their private judgement burdened the air and smothered me with irrational guilt. falling sick, I longed for my quarters. I wanted to lie down and die.

The spectators and prosecutors returned, muttering and grumpy. Arbitous Chi called the room to order, his voice thrummed a bad imitation of a door-to-door salesman bluffing his way through a sale. I wondered what stakes, if any, Arbitous Chi had in this political lynching.

As his High-and-Mightiness bored everyone with a summary of topics, my head transposed the figure of the judge character from Pink Floyd's 'The Wall'.

My optics narrowed. What a weird image to conjure at a time like this. The animated judge from the rock opera spoke out his aft.

Daring to face the crowd, I turned my optics upon the assembly behind me. Rationally speaking, I knew they were a conglomeration of Autobots, Humans and few aliens. I saw their physical bodies, their faces, but I also witnessed their _characters_ like looking into their souls; the root of their personas. I almost laughed and would have were the situation different.

Where was His Trionness? I spotted Dumbo and behind him sat a Gingerbread man. This was really twisted. I dreamed without sleeping.

Waitaminute. That figure who looked like a Mrs. Humpty Dumpty... was that Contrara?

Arbitous Chi hit the stand. "This court has reviewed all evidence and is prepared to move forward with its decision. Prosecution, you may take the floor in summary."

Trion stood, regal and cool. My head throbbed. Despair bled within me. Trion paused. He scanned the whole room left to right and made a point to look each camera directly, his face a mask of gravity. "My friends," he addressed, "CDA members, Autobot officers, people of Cybertron, Metroplex and Earth. It grieves me that I am forced by the tide of events to prosecute one of our own. More than that, I am wounded by the truth that people we trusted, depended upon and loved have betrayed us. From Ultra Magnus' shocking murder of another trusted and loyal officer to Rodimus Prime's ..." Alpha Trion paused here, his voice cracked. He collected his composure.

He was way too good at acting.

"...to Rodimus Prime's indescribable betrayal of Earth and Cybertron, his... alliance with the Decepticons and ultimate conspiracy with the Quintessons. I-I wish this did not happen. But it did. I wish I could turn the clocks back and prevent whatever it was that drove Rodimus into the arms of our hated enemies. But we have to face the facts. We have to stand to the truth and deal with the consequences as they arise. As Contrara said, we must protect what is ours, demand justice so that we may never see something of this nature again. I acknowledge this is difficult for many of you to fathom the causes and conditions of such affairs. I promise you that we will recover and strengthen from it. And to Rodimus Prime I... am anguished almost beyond words. _Why_, Rodimus? Why would you consider personal gain above your call to serve? Why would you send hundreds of Humans to perish on Mars? Why would you make a pact with-with demons? I might understand the Decepticons, certainly they have not caused us grief in quite a while. But the Quintessons?"

He paused and I turned cold. "Maybe, maybe it's _our_ fault," Trion continued. "Autobots have relied on the old system of Prime for millions and millions of years and maybe, just maybe it's time for us to move forward. If we... if we as a society could somehow find it within ourselves to forgive and move past these dark days of horrors, perhaps we can also find for ourselves a new way of looking at things. We can consider restructuring our society not around an antiquated alien artifact, but around ourselves.'

'I want you to take Rodimus' position for just the moment. He is responsible for every Autobot, worker and officer, in Metroplex. Now it used to be that the Autobot leader was responsible for every Autobot on Cybertron but the CDA has lifted much of that burden. We did this in hopes making things easier. And maybe what we did was take the first steps forward to a more democratic society. Why can't other Autobots step in and take charge? After all, we are a civilized people and the need for a military leader is more or less over.'

'As I say, we can take this tragedy and press ever forward. And we can start with justice. We can ask-yes, we can demand to end Rodimus Prime's administration and thereby, end the fallacy of the necessity of the Matrix. We can step away from the imperfection of the office and duty of Prime and move into a freer, more independent society. And so I ask the court on this day of days, to give us the chance to decide our own path. We ask the court to find Rodimus Prime guilty on all charges and thereby do away with the office and tyranny of Prime and make law for democracy and independence from an old system of life. We are not at war. The Decepticons are pacified. We can now take that extra step of freedom by casting off old ways of thinking, old dependancies and improve our lives and those with whom we share the cosmos."

I sat, stunned silent like the rest of the room. The Matrix has repeatedly come to our rescue for millions of years. It guided Optimus and saved us from the Hate Plague. An alien artifact? Maybe. But It considers us Its children. Why should it matter whether or not it was alien? I did not care what the court or the Autobot population did with me. But the Matrix could not be condemned; a thing to be tossed aside like an obsolete trophy. I hurt. And I hurt for the Matrix.

"RODIMUS PRIME!"

Arbitous Chi fumed at the depth and height of his vocalizer. Tired and strained, I felt pain in places I did not know I had. I narrowed my optics, realizing that my mind drifted far from the courtroom, far from the moment. Just like Contrara changing into a Mrs. Potato Head, he melted into a cockroach.

Since Cockroach Arbitous Chi took the effort to scream my name in front of everyone, I decided to give him twenty-two seconds of attention.

"I will try this again," he drawled. (seventeen seconds) "You have been read a list of charges from under-handed dealings to conspiring with the enemy to insolence and treason. These are grave charges. How do you wish to plea?"

I considered it. Not that I cared, but obviously it was important enough for the roach to scream. He had nine seconds so I answered him. "If there was any treason to be committed on my behalf, it was failure to eliminate the right people from our society."

Good enough for me. Arbitous' twenty-two seconds ended. My aching head forced me to lie upon the floor, optics frozen on one spot. The spectator's underlying hostility smothered me.

Arbitous Chi glared at the Autobot Prime before sending a colder glare to Akhal. "Have you anything to add, Counselor?"

Akhal returned the judge's cold glare until he looked away. She took the front and stared at spectators, into the cameras and at the table of prosecutors. Her silence forced everyone to freeze their attention upon her.

"I am not sure if anyone here or out there will hear my words. It may be too late. But I will try. First off, I have to wonder how any people-especially Autobots-could be so self-centered as to allow these attacks against your leader. There's no real evidence. Where are the Quintesson witnesses? Where are the contracts and records? And who is Alpha Trion to bring these charges against your leader? Is Trion a Prime? No. No. While everyone in the court is allowed to return to their homes and quarters, Rodimus has been forced to remain here. Humans would consider that cruel and yet there you sit, allowing it to happen.'

'Rodimus' only function is the care and protection of his people. But you have allowed sharks to attack him. Do you not realize that a Prime was designated a leader, the center of your society long before Autobots were Autobots? And hasn't it occurred to anyone how the charges are absurd and outside Rodimus Prime's character? The Matrix would never have chosen him if Rodimus did not qualify for the position of Autobot leader.'

'You _must_ put an end to this! You have been lied to, deceived and blinded by the ambitions of a group of people who weren't supposed to be in authority. Ultimately, they will destroy you."

She eyed them one then another. Akhal could think of nothing more to say. She returned to her table and ignored whispers around her.

Arbitous Chi glanced from prosecution to defense, his face a mask of neutrality. "This court is hereby in recess. We will reconvene in ninety minutes at which time I will deliver a final verdict."

The crowds departed and ushers escorted stragglers out. Akhal scrunched before the cell in which Rodimus now sat, non-responsive. "Rodimus? Roddi, can you hear me? I'm going to go and get you some energon. I'll be gone just a little while, I promise." Rodimus only sat there, his optics locked in a distant stare.

*

Metroplex rocked and recoiled with violence. CDA militia arrested, harassed and shot several Autobots and usually arrested those Humans who protested alongside their Autobot City friends. Medbay, already reeling with casualties and wounded, took an unfair hit when rioters bombed the main emergency entrance.

Power mains staggered before crashing, leaving one half the city in darkness. Without power, Metroplex lay incapable of relaying information. All entrances and exits broke down, leaving people stranded on roads leading to and from the city.

Then the Decepticons appeared from nowhere. They marched along the streets and flew among buildings. Confused, Metroplex personnel vacillated between attacking the militia and the new invaders. But when Galvatron ordered the destruction of all CDA automatons, no one doubted the difference between enemy and ally.

During the last four days, reporter crews swarmed the CDA chamber hall day and night. Automatons and those Autobots loyal to CDA surrounded the building, using weapons, threats and their own bodies to keep people out. But upon recess, all CDA's automatons, and all CDA's personnel could not bring order back together again. The chamber doors opened and people poured forth, stepping into a media minefield.

They failed, however, to catch the minute shadow movement of one Human reporter, dressed darkly, invisible behind a barrage of Autobot correspondents.

"Alpha Trion!" Someone shouted above the chaos. "Sir! Elder Trion?"

There he emerged from the hall, the charasmatic, informal leader of the Autobots. His twin body guards, Swiss and Notch backed him with bulldog expressions. Trion lifted his hands to quell the barrage of questions. "It has been an emotionally tumultuous day, my friends." he lamented, "I've not quite felt so distressed since the era of Nemesis."

A female Autobot squeezed her way forward, armed only with a mic in her thumb. "Elder Trion, my lord, could you explain what you said in suggesting we do away with the Matrix? Do you think it really is no longer necessary? What about future events the likes of which we may see again such as Unicron or the Hate Plague?"

"What is your name, my child?"

"Gabby, sir."

"Gabby, what do you think? Certainly we are intelligent enough, strong enough and wise enough ourselves to face our own destiny. We do not need the Matrix-or any other crutch. I believe we are capable of dictating our own future. Think on it, each and every one of you. Consider yourselves lords, masters and owners of your own futures." Trion scanned an attendant crowd. Their optics held him in adoration. "It is something to consider. But first, we must tackle the problem at hand. We must live today. It's all we have now. So let's take the moment to rest before dealing with the problem ahead. Tomorrow, we shall explore the possibilities of creating a brand new society. I look forward to hearing ideas from all my children and yes, even the Children of Earth." Trion paused. "But for now, at this time, I must rest."

Reporters sprang to life, questions rolled from their lips, their praising voices called for Trion's attention. But he said nothing more as he and the Doberman Pincers departed for recess.

The small shadow slipped past Notch, making no sound. 'She' kept kissing-close to the wall and stole her advance until she passed the second security screening, the interior cameras. Form there, the shadow crawled on hands and knees to a statue representing an ancient Autobot leader. She squeezed between the monument and the wall and waited for the janitor.

The custodian arrived half an hour later. The skeleton of an Autobot, weary and old, opened the door and the shadow slipped in, quiet as a passing cloud.

I tried to sleep. I fell to blissful ignorant darkness but woke shaking. My head rattled with sounds of war. I thought they shot me over and over.

I tossed about the uncomfortable floor until my right foot hit the energy barrier. A sizzling, hot electric shock coursed through me, not for the first time. I had many burn marks along my arms and legs. I grew fed up with the undue treatment.

"Oughta stay 'way from them bars, young fella." the janitor admonished from several rows off.

Ignoring him, I sat up, hunched over, cold and miserable. I told myself to quit whining. Just stop. I'm not the first to suffer, won't be the last. But I found no comfort in my personal admonishment. It wasn't the uncomfortable floor that hurt or the energy barriers. Hell, I've been through worse.

My heart, my spark hurt. I realized I hurt because my own people considered me obsolete. The Matrix has been rejected.

Was it really possible to die by rejection? By the thunder of bombs, the high-pitched tones of laser fire, the scream of death, my answer came positive. The so-called riots were of a catalyst for change.

My mind and body slumped as I tried to shut down and sleep. I whispered Optimus' name. I did not regret leaving him in the hands of someone I trusted. Oh, but I miss... I miss...

Vaguely, as though mental curtains drew aside for clearer thoughts, I sensed a presence other than the absent-minded custodian. I shuddered from electrical overload.

_"Rodimus?"_

I felt part of Metroplex fall. Oh Primus, the bastards are killing the city. Fuckheads.

_ "Rodimus?"_

"I'm coming home," I slurred. I don't know why I said that. Come on, Prime. Back to reality. I sat; a straw doll in a place I didn't belong. My insides bled, torn up as though someone revved a hacksaw and set it loose inside me. I missed Op. I wanted to see him again. But he was far away; safe. Did he think of me? Would he care? Was he angry that I left him? _"Rodimus?"_

The Matrix called me to leave this reality. I wanted to see Optimus again, to say good-bye. To tell him I was sorry I could not stay.

_ "Rodimus Prime."_

Was that Arcee? No. The voice moused, small and sweet. Carly? No, she moved after Rusti died.

"Rodimus?"

Yeah, look to the right, dummy. Not as easy a task; pain stiffened my joints. And the voice wasn't a mouse. Loni... Loni Carlson. My optics narrowed, surprised. She smiled, trying to cheer me. I wanted to say something but my jumbled thoughts disagreed on what needed to be said.

"I... I guess I came to see if I might be able to help in some way. I... Rodimus, I saw Ultra Magnus. I don't know where they've taken him, but-"

"Arrested him."

"Yes. They did." I felt her squirm in uncomfortable silence. She had no words to encourage me, no poems to heal my wounds, no song to give me strength. "Rodimus," she said softly. "I know all the politics, the events and people involved with Metroplex, the CDA and something about Optimus Prime. But I was wondering if I missed something." Loni paused, biting her lower lip. "Is there something more behind Alpha Trion's... disingenuous smile? Is there something more that needs to be said? I find it difficult to believe that you'd betray your own people. Tell me something about Alpha Trion that maybe I'm not supposed to know."

That roused me enough to grab the opportunity. I stared through her, my head raced with thousands of memories demanding disclosure. "Where would I start?" I asked myself. "How many people did he exploit?" Clarity came to me for but that split moment. I thought of one story, just one thing that someone else needed to investigate. "Loni, you must find the truth about Elita-One. You must find out who was ordered to kill her. Find out if Trion's daughters are hers." My voice failed to a whisper while Loni unsnapped her shoulder bag and produced a hand-held recorder-thingy.

Her eyes batted with disbelief. "You mean Arcee might be Elita One's daughter? How do you know this? Are you sure?"

The courtroom doors clanged open. Loni's eyes shot wide and she disappeared. I'm glad she did. She's Human; just big enough to get into trouble, too small to save anyone like me. I bowed over, dying for a good night's sleep.

Metal scraped the floor before me. The grating squeak dragged me from internal musings to face Trion.

Trion swept a chair across the floor and sat backwards. He lapped his arms across the back of the seat and he considered me a long moment. "I thought a small, momentary heart-to-heart was in order, Rodimus. I'm sure by now you're wondering where all your friends and colleagues have gone." He paused as usual so I drank the poisons of his silence and solemnity.

"Well, Rodimus," he continued, "rest assured your closest friends are just fine. We arrested Springer and Kup to keep them off our backs. We hoped to have eliminated everyone who would have defended you."

He chuckled, angry but amused. "I am amazed. Of all people, a Decepticon stood up for you. She was good. I'll give you that. She was good. But I have all the votes. So did you want to say anything to defend yourself? It's alright, Roddi. You can tell me."

It took a lot of will for me to finally speak. "I have nothing civil to say to you. I have nothing _nice_ to say that you'd want to hear."

"I see. Well, I have plenty to say. So you can just listen."

That roused my ire enough to stir the embers of what remained in my head. "You won. Whoopee. Knock yourself out with joy. But eventually another Prime will come along. Someone chosen by the Matrix, not purchased at a political price. And _that_ Prime will know to be wary of you. I'll make sure the Matrix remembers this."

He sat still, optics glinting upon deep consideration. "You know, you're right, Rodimus. It's not been you or Optimus at all. All this time my problem has been the Matrix." He nodded, agreeing with his own conclusions. Trion stood and drew the chair aside. "I suppose we need to take care of that, don't we?"

He disappeared behind the judges' stand. The force field holding me evaporated. Fresher air cooled my body. I struggled to stand but weakened by injury, lack of rest and sustenance denied me strength. I sat and searched my surroundings for leverage.

Trion returned, wiping his hands on a soft cloth. "Boys," he said to his Doberman Pincers, "I need the Matrix."

Notch knelt behind and coiled his arms around me. I struggled against Notch's grip while Swiss tried to figure out how to open my chest. I kicked him in the face while Notch slowly choked me into submission. "It's no good!" I shouted at Trion. "The Matrix has completely rejected you!"

Notch rolled over; pushing me underneath, face down. His weight smothered me while his arms squeezed more tightly. Swiss recovered and kicked me in the side until he breeched my exostructure. With each new kick, my fluids splattered his foot and soaked the finely polished flooring.

Strangely enough, I felt nothing more than greater weakness. Convinced they subdued me, Notch rolled on his back. I faced the ceiling lights but barely saw them. Cold air invaded my chest. Rough hands snapped off heavy-plated locks and my second heart, the Matrix, left my pathetic, useless body.

I failed. I failed as a leader. I failed as a Prime. Notch tossed me aside and I lay there, a dying child on the side of the road, discarded and betrayed.

"Hah!" Trion declared loudly. "Thank you so much, Swiss. We finally will attain that which we have worked so hard for."

The gasp of a butterfly screamed at me. Butterfly; Loni. I thought she was safely out of the room. Feebly, my fingers moved as fear stirred me to life. No, no. Trion kept speaking, preaching to his chump body guards. He did not see her. But Loni heard and saw what happened. Trion's true nature revealed itself to an outsider. A Human. A reporter with a recorder. I searched for a strand of strength, a shallow pool of energy with which I might protect her.

Faint footfalls tapped outside the courtroom doors. BOOM! The doors flew open. "Trion!! Elder Trion! Sir!" Heavy footsteps clunked down the isle. Not once did this person take note that the Matrix resided in Trion's hands. Nor did this same thick-headed Autobot heed my pathetic struggle for survival.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Alpha Trion, Sir. But there's news from Mars-the facility has been completely blown apart."

"WHAT?!"

"We just saw the photos. They found sixteen Quintessons strung upside down and shot execution-style."

The news gave me hope. That _had_ to be Cyclonus. And that gave me a measure of strength. I managed to pull myself together so that I sat up enough to face Trion. Loss of consciousness fought me. "What's that, Your Trionness?" I slurred, "have-have you found a glitch in your well-laid plans? While you were... so busy with public and political bragging, gloating over your accomplishments, I reconciled with the Decepticons. They are an ally you could _never_ corrupt."

Trion scrunched in front of me and gripped the Matrix tightly. He stared at it; treasure of the ages. He nodded. "You must think that I fear your little unholy alliance, Rodimus. You probably think the Decepticons will come galloping into Metroplex and save the day. But _I_ have the last say, my incorrigible, juvenile recalcitrant. I am taking over. Now!"

I watched Trion lift the Matrix high over his head; a offering in the name of power lust. He brought it down like a priest speeding his knife into a sacrifice. My laser core stopped dead. Time froze. Trion smashed the Matrix; he smashed my heart. I stopped breathing. The universe fell silent.

_"This way, Rodimus. I want you to come home._"

A million splinters skittered across the floor. Fragments of a sacred entity lay lifeless around me.

Inconsolable anguish consumed my whole being.

I trembled. My hands shook like leaves in a strong winter wind. My shaking right hand stretched forward and carefully picked up a shard of what remained of the Matrix. The incandescent life-light that gave it such beauty now darkened. Dead... just like Op's optics when he left us decades ago.

Just like the light inside me.

I smelled Trion's smugness. But overwhelmed with grief I felt no anger. I picked up another lifeless Matrix shard. "It's over." my voice broke in grief. "How-how could you do this? You've destroyed us. You've destroyed ... Why? Why?" Why did my life keep going even with the Matrix's death?

He kicked my face with such force that I landed on my back. I lay broken, pained, bewildered. "Quit your whining, Rodimus. I've replaced an ancient, useless system of government with a more up-to-date idea. From now on, those with ambition, drive and determination will rule. Not some alien-possessed, dictator-wannabe."

I managed to roll over as rioters exchanged fist-blows, gun fire and fierce words just outside the courtroom. Someone screamed for help. Nearly lifeless myself, I hurt for them all. I could rescue no one. I could not save the Autobots.

Trion watched Rodimus crawl along the floor. A wonderful sense of power and victory gave him the ultimate high. After millions of years, he wormed his way to the position he lost when the Matrix chose Optimus. Why he had not thought about destroying the alien artifact long ago left him puzzled. Such a simple solution! Well... he did want it for himself. One cannot be Prime without it.

By eliminating the position and office of Prime, he also eliminated the Matrix, making it an object of little to no consequence. Trion took charge; free to do as he saw fit.

I found breath. Shock gradually dissolved, leaving me in the midst of brutal reality. Denial could not save me. How could the world and the universe continue to go on when death loomed above us?

Someone attempted to stop the fighting in the foyer. Bladed weapons clashed. Growling voices challenged one another. Trion demanded a status report but only a muffled answer returned. I did not recognize the voice or understood what was said. I did not care. Reaching for another shard, I slowly flinched when a small intense light hit me. It focused on the fragments then zipped to Trion who kept calling his chump bodyguards to answer. The light bounced off the Matrix shards; beautiful even in death. I still paid no attention when the light shot back to me. My body slowed as death claimed me layer by layer.

A small but firm voice spoke; Loni was still here. She stepped closer to me, hugging her camera close. "We are live in the CDA courtroom. Where just outside a fight has broken out between Alpha Trion's personal guards and a pair of Decepticons. Alpha Trion, you just shattered the Matrix. What are your plans now that Rodimus is no longer able to lead the Autobots?"

Not only did she film the moment, she used her cell phone to snap additional pictures.

Realization ran cold through my body. The one thing Trion loved most in life turned against him, tore aside his secrets and left him utterly exposed. Loni snapped every angle, capturing the debased, disconcerted Alpha Prime and his shattered, powerless Matrix lying on the floor.

I did not see his expression but I felt fear and horror flood Trion. My optics climbed Trion's posture. He stared down, not at me or the decimated Matrix but at Loni. No great words of wisdom came from his trembling lip components. He had no entertaining performance for the millions watching Loni's report. No defense for the prosecution.

"Stop," Trion's proud voice failed. His regal, grandfather image fled, replaced by the horror of undeniable truth. "You're not supposed to see this... this... Stop. Please."

He could not attack her; not without revealing the brutal side of his nature; not without endangering his precious image. Trion's voice fell to a pitiful whisper: "Stop."

The courtroom door, still open, smashed asunder and something thunked down the thick red carpet along the isle between Prosecution and Defense sides. The object rolled to rest beside one of the Matrix's casings.

Trion stared in revulsion into the dead and bloodied optics of Exel Pi. Trion withdrew. "Barbarians," he muttered.

Another rounded object hit his shoulder and landed at his feet. Notch's head lay there, half the helm cracked clean open. Fluids leaked and exposed meta processors sparked brightly in the air.

"Who did this?!" Trion demanded. "Swiss! Where the Pitt-Swiss!" he turned to the judge's stand and regretted turning from Rodimus. A bitter cold object pierced upward into his back. Trion froze with a gasp, shocked. Then Optimus' voice entered his left audio, slow, quiet, dark, emotionless.

"Hello, Alpha Trion. It's been a long time since I've had a real knife in my back. Tell me, how does it feel?"

"Op-timus!" Trion gasped for air as life support systems failed to reach his laser core.

Optimus further impaled Trion's bleeding wound. "I finally realized why the Matrix brought me back; it was to bring you down. You might have destroyed the Matrix, but at least I can take you with me. Enjoy your trip to the Pitt."

I heard the conversation between Optimus and Trion. I heard Trion gasp and gurgle as Optimus sliced his fluid lines. I did not care. The Matrix no longer existed. I gathered every minute shard and cradled them in my hand. It amazed me to learn that a major part of the Matrix was simply energy; the crystalline was the barest physical embodiment of the artifact. Maybe we'd find another one. Maybe there's more somewhere, somehow.

Yeah, I was fooling myself, or trying to. Six Decepticons entered the courtroom. It pleased me to think of them as friends. Cyclonus, Galvatron and Akhal approached. She knelt beside me, her warm hand lay on my arm, but I could not face her. I was a ghost, fading with the setting sun. I picked up three more diminutive pieces as Optimus scrunched before me. I found comfort in his presence. My best friend was here.

"Roddi."

His deep warm voice touched me inside. Emptiness masticated my soul. I am broken, bleeding mess. Optimus laid his hand on my hand, my hand filled with the shards of a destitute future.

"I failed," I whispered. "I failed. I failed."

"No," He spoke so quiet, soothing my internal pain. "_I_ failed. I could not save you in time. I understood and too late."

I trembled, heartbroken. "It's over, Op. I mean, completely over. Any new Autobots; any sparklings will be automatons, won't they?" Optimus' color faded as I sat before him, optics locked. I was losing color, too as I hemorrhaged to death.

"I am sorry, Roddi. None of it was your fault."

I lost the shards. They dropped like tiny wind chimes and shattered into minuscule fragments, echoing the finality of my existence, of the extinction of my people. I embraced Optimus as my systems failed one after another. "Op... Op," my voice faded as I wept. "Op... Promise me you'll find Rusti. I want you to be happy. Cyclonus will take care of you. He promised. He promised."

Optimus clutched Roddi tightly as the Autobot leader's body dwindled to the grey and cold. Optimus did not think he'd ever weep for anyone but Rusti. But as his own life ebbed, he wept for Rodimus and gently rocked his lifeless friend.

Akhal laid a hand on Roddi's head, her face drawn and solemn. "I'm so sorry, Optimus."

"There was nothing you could do, Akhal. They killed him yesterday when they rejected him."

People from all over the world, visitors from other planets and both Autobots and Decepticons came to Metroplex to pay farewell to Rodimus. Reconstruction on Metroplex ceased for three days in memory of the last Autobot leader they'd ever have.

True to his word, Cyclonus took care of the Autobots. He and Ultra Magnus buried Rodimus at the foot of Lookout Mountain. Five days later, they buried Optimus next to him.

Just as Rodimus said, in Trion's greed and power

lust, the First Autobot sealed the fate of his entire species. Vector Sigma continued to instill artificial intelligence to the new generation of Transformers. But there resided no spark within them.

Cybertron finally knew peace. But it became the peace of death.

End

T.L. Arens


End file.
